


You Got Me Punch-Drunk

by limanade



Category: Cravity (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, FBI Agent Allen MA, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Gas Station AU, Happy Ending, Internalized Homophobia, Italian Mafia, M/M, MINIMO IF U SQUINT, MacDonald's as a plot device, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:02:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 26,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25657105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/limanade/pseuds/limanade
Summary: Park Serim, a cashier at a mundane gas station, also does occasional side jobs for a friend.Allen Ma, a rookie FBI agent investigating an interesting case on a national level.They meet by chance in the August night, and then soon after due to seemingly normal circumstances. As the days turn into months, Serim might've bit off more than he can chew with his latest job: fake dating Allen.aka a gas station & fake dating au
Relationships: Allen Ma/Park Serim
Comments: 40
Kudos: 69





	1. I Sell Rhymes Like Dimes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this has the same prompt and story structure as my other fic 'And You Lie' but a pretty different take just due to the different characters. I thought it would be around the same length but I was mistaken, so it will be chaptered. 
> 
> The word 'Punch-drunk' on google means: stupefied by or as if by a series of heavy blows to the head, but when I wrote this fic I thought punch-drunk meant something was the color of punch, like the fruit drink. So i basically used the word in both meanings, to describe something red (since punch is red) and to describe being stupefied. Hope that makes sense, Shakespeare used to always make new words, so this is my take on a word, giving it a new meaning.
> 
> chap title from song Rhymes Like Dimes By MF Doom. newly added chap titles bc aesthetic

_August_

It's another night shift at the gas station like most days for Serim. Still in the thick of summer heat, he's lucky air condition is possible. He's currently ringing up a customer, bored out of his mind. Scanning two bottles of Coca-Cola, and in a monotone voice, the cashier says, "That'll be $4.25." 

As Serim shifts his focus, he sees the glint of a gun in the customers hands. Now this situation was quite common working at the gas station, and so the gloomy boy quietly speed dials 911, and then warns, "Sir, I need you to put down-"

"P-PUT YOUR HANDS UP! OPEN UP THE CASH REGISTER AND GIVE ME ALL THE MONEY!" The customer holds up a small piston and a flimsy bag, and Serim sighs. Another petty robber with no skills or class. 

The cashier was going to knock the gun out of the customers hand and trap him (from experiences like these), but before he could do that, someone already beat him to it. 

Unknown to both Serim and the robber, there was another guy in the aisles. The mystery stranger skillfully swiped the gun from the robber by twisting his arm, and then turning him around to trap him between the counter and his own legs. The robber was now lowly facing Serim, bent over the counter, and the new guy holding the robber in place from the back. The gun was on the floor, locked.

"I had it under control." Are the only words Serim says, only half serious. He definitely does not need a hero for this part of his life, he had just called the police so they can take the criminal away. The guy with copper hair, his 'hero', is grinning, "I know. I saw you call 911, so here I am. "

Serim did another once over, now taking in every detail. The guy looked like your typical college student. He wore a hoodie with a plaid shirt, and silver chains glinting in the poor lighting. To top it all off a cute face. A complete 180 from his impressive actions taking down the robber.

"You're a cop?" The cashier asks, clearly not believing the young guy, who then whips out a fancy looking badge. It's shiny and new and official-looking, and on the bottom it says in script, 'Allen Ma'.

"I mean technically no, but I work with the police force. I'm a rookie agent at the FBI. The title is actually special agent, but it always sounds so cliché to me." Serim inwardly agrees. 

"Well thanks Allen, I guess I didn't need to call the police." Serim mutters, and he doesn't even know what the FBI investigates, or if it's making any meaningful change in society. The robber was still there, listening to their entire conversation held by Allen's iron grip. "Ugh, we get it, you caught me. Congratulations. Can you let me at least switch into a more comfortable position? This isn’t exactly ideal…"

"Oh, yeah, sure." Allen says, sincerely apologetic to the now criminal. The agent and the robber look as if they're in the beginning of a bad porno. Watching attentively, Serim kicks the gun further away. "Don't worry about, I've got the gun."

"Great, and do you have any handcuffs? Or rope?" Allen asks still holding the robbers hands behind his back. Kinky, Serim thinks absent mindedly. "I'll check in the back."

With the robber now tied to a chair, Serim's forced to small talk with Allen till the cops arrive. He wouldn't mind small talk during the day, or when he's getting paid, but when he's brain dead it's like asking him to do calculus m. Luckily, Allen seems just as casual about it as him. "So since you know my name, what's your name?"

"It's Serim."

"So Serim, do you work here often? I'm sure you're used to all the petty crimes in the city since you have the police on speed dial." Allen says off-handedly, smiling sheepishly.

"Yeah, I work the night shift 5 days a week, and this a pretty normal occurrence. This part of the city isn't exactly the safest, but I'm used to it. Even if you didn't show up, I promise you I would be fine," Serim smiles back, he has to give props to Allen for initiating and trying to lead the conversation. 

"Yeah, I only came to this gas station because my fridge is empty, and nothing else is open this late," Allen says, but Serim can tell he's struggling to make conversation. His eyes keep darting around, and he's fidgeting with the sleeves on his plaid shirt. Unlike his outward appearance, his demeanor is soft. "So, are you a student?"

"Yep. It's my last year, and I'm majoring in music," Serim answers, popping the p. 

"That's really cool, if this whole justice thing didn't work out, my second choice was music. Thankfully I got accepted in the FBI really quickly." Serim thinks it's absurd that music is a backup plan. A career in music should legally require a backup plan. He wishes he had a backup plan, but so far he hasn’t dropped out so that's good on him. 

"By the way, how old are you? You look kinda young to be working for the FBI," Serim asks, genuinely curious. 

Chuckling, Allen sighs, "Yeah, I'm the youngest in my department since I started a couple of months ago. I'm 24, freshly graduated this year."

"I'm 24 too," Serim responds, and now it's really lame because here he is working at a gas station, while Allen works for the FBI, earning six digits. Life is unfair, isn't it?

"Oh, I forgot about my groceries! Do you think I could still pay for them?" Allen exclaims, rushing to get his leftover basket by the aisle of magazines. 

"I don't see why not," Serim replies, amused, as they both meet at the cash register once again. A jug of chocolate milk, a box of cereal, five frozen pizzas (there was a sale), and two packs of strawberry gum. The scene feels way too casual for what just happened minutes ago, a plastic counter separating them as if they were strangers, but Serim doesn't have the energy to care, and Allen doesn't comment either. "That'll be $28.38."

"Thanks," Allen says, and at the same moment a police car pulls up with their lights glaring. The criminal was easily taken in by the police and the last he sees of Allen is him giving a shy smile and waving goodbye. Serim waves back.

The moon shines beautifully as the police leave, the havoc leaving with them. Another night at the gas station, Serim thinks to himself, and he continues to stare at nothingness till his eyes roll backwards. Even when inside, he can feel some of the summer heat seep through.

-

_September_

The artificial lights are annoyingly bright as Serim is sitting behind the cash register. Legs up and eyes tired, only a couple people show up during the late night, so on routine the boy starts dozing off.

'Ding dong' Barely stirring, Serim slowly wakes up, already used to the feeling of lack of sleep, acting as if he wasn't napping on the job. Blinking twice, he grins. Today's an interesting day.

Smirking as he walks straight towards the sleepy boy, the new customer leans on the counter. "Hey Serim, how you've been?"

"Same old, Wonjin." Serim says uninterested, clearly annoyed. These conversations are always so dry because its 'business'. They literally saw each other in class today. The guy, Wonjin, takes a package of strawberry gum and chews a piece, "So, I got another job for you."

Wonjin, a friend he made at university, liked to partake in some illegal activities, to which Serim couldn't care less about. Albeit, the crime scene concerning the mafia had money to spare, and Serim being the broke university student he is, got roped into it pretty easily. Wonjin doesn't tell him anymore than that it's organized crime (cough cough the mafia), and so Serim doesn't ask questions. He does some jobs, and he gets some cash, simple as that. 

Not everyone was blessed financially, and with his parents against his decision against music, he didn't have much. Either way, it's a win-win situation for both parties. It's not that he enjoys working for Wonjin, he just couldn't afford to care much about his annoying morals. 

"Hmm, what is it?" Serim asks, rolling his eyes. "And stop taking store merchandise, we're running low in strawberry gum."

Wonjin playfully tosses him the rest of the gum package. "Here, it's all yours, it's even your favorite flavor." Serim ignores that, and as the dutiful employee he is, puts it back on the shelf, and then asks again, "So what's the job?"

"Well, the head guy thinks a scheme of ours is under investigation by the FBI. I think he's crazy, but that's beside the point. Anyways, we just need you to verify it." Wonjin states as he looks at the display of various chocolate bars. He takes a KitKat and starts munching on it.

"Your job is to befriend or date, whichever ones easier, one of the special agents. We already have a target from the higherups, and you'll basically be a small mole. Simple stuff, and if they're not investigating us, then you can just break it off."

Park Serim, roped into the petty world of crime, was non-descript about it. Due to his clean slate and outgoing nature, he's a suitable mole, and his handsome features are a plus too. Wonjin likes to call him charming, but Serim would just consider himself lucky to win the genetic lottery. Although he fits the archetype of a frat boy, his only real friend is Wonjin. Sure, he talks to girls and boys at university, but that doesn't pay the bills, and he doesn't have spare cash to spend while partying. He's already grown out of that partying phase and meaningless people to hook up with. Once you've done it for a couple of years it starts to get boring, and he really needs to graduate.

Besides, ties to the mafia were hard to detect at such a low level, and Serim already had a disrespect for society, so the little guilt he felt disappeared after a good nap. Usually he fake dated people, bribed officers, anything a low life would do. At least he gets good money out of it. 

Yawning, Serim says in a low voice. "Sounds good. Usual payment?"

"Yeah, and he's your age too, so that makes it a lot easier." Wonjin informs, and he never mentions names on tape for court and evidence, but they both know Serim will erase it anyway. 

"Here," Wonjin takes out a white pristine envelope from his suit jacket and gives it to the cashier. Gladly taking the letter, it was basically the same thing as accepting a cheque. 

"See you in class." Wonjin says, and leaves with two more chocolate bars he swiped while he thought Serim wasn't looking. The door clicks closed, and Serim falls fast asleep, the letter sitting innocently behind the counter. 

-

Cluttered with miscellaneous items, his dorm is a tripping hazard. Was it worth it to have no roommate but it being the size of a walk in closet?

Laying in his too small bed cot, Serim carefully takes out the letter and opens it. As always, there's one piece of white paper with a name, bio, contacts, and photos that he was later going to burn once he remembered everything. It's easy to date someone when you know everything about them, let alone a friend. A prepared façade is usually all it takes to get his number in the target's phone.

The title states, 'Special Agent Allen Ma of the Federal Bureau of Investigation (Los Angeles)'. That means he must've moved here a couple of months ago.

Allen? Was it the same Allen who caught the robber? The pictures confirmed it. Allen was wearing his graduation robe and cap, holding up a certificate, looking proud. Looking like he could actually change the world with his career choice, though his hair was completely different. Short, black, and absolutely ugly. He still had the same smile, though. 

Serim's now so thankful for his new updo, a little eye candy never hurt while on the job. The brassy copper tone suited him. 

Valedictorian of his class, Allen Ma was an 'outstanding student' from his higherups. Also 'resourceful and bright, his way of thinking is contagious'. Serim can only roll his eyes at the cheesy remarks.

Knowing Allen beforehand was actually quite lucky for Serim. It was the perfect conversation starter, except this time he'll charm the pants off Allen, if he's into that. Besides, Allen seems like a nice enough guy to get to know, but that only makes Serim more an edge. The nicer the victims, the worse the guilt. Hopefully he has some sort of red flag, like he's still not over his ex, or he's rude to waiters or has some sort of weird kink. 

His 7x4 room seems to be more open than usual. It doesn't feel as constricting, especially since he just woke up from the night shift like most days, but it must be a good sign for him to set a plan into action. Set, trap, and go! Soon, he'll have Allen Ma wrapped around his finger with no notice of being played with.

To physically print or write plans to seduce someone is just too cringy, it should be as natural as possible, meaning leaving no evidence. All he has to do is meet Allen face to face to set the plan in motion. 

The mental reminders to call his mom and dad are long forgotten. It's not like he was looking forward to it, it's always how are your grades? (the same) Have you found a girl? (no, I'm fake dating someone) And without fail, a scolding hidden by nice words about his choice in degree, that disappointing tone of voice only makes him want to succeed out of spite.

For now, another nap is in need, Serim thinks as he yawns and settles back into bed. His brain feels fuzzy, and the thought of a plan is completely thrown off as his ratty blankets cover him. 

-

A café is pretty standard for first meetings, at least for Serim. This one in particular is quite upscale and costly, due to the fact that its location is right in the middle of the busiest place in the city, not to mention a block away from the agency. With the sunlight shining down on his iced coffee, the window provides a perfect view point on the bustling streets. 

Dressed in a denim button down with a white sweater on top, something much too fancy for him, he patiently waits, doing some light reading. This part of the city is too neat and orderly, but he fits in perfectly with his light smile and handsome features. The dress shirt helps too, but Serim doesn't really belong here. He's a broke university student that eats at MacDonald's, not an overpriced café. 

An hours past and he's been reading the same men's health magazine ten times over, but then again he's used to it. The first meeting always takes the longest, and he proceeds to switch to the National Geographic. The last time he read it he must've been in middle school about how cholesterol causes heart attacks (it doesn't, you can eat your eggs).

Dozens of people walk by since it's already rush hour, some wearing uniforms, suit and ties, and just whatever else. Their heedy footsteps blur his mind out as he waits. The same barista has been constantly asking him if he needs anything, and every time he says 'no', his spine prickles up that much more. He's surprised he hasn't been kicked out yet, but when he flashes his killer smile and the waiter blinks twice before leaving him be, he knows he'll be fine. 

The barista is beginning to wear him down by the fifth time, and Serim's now looking at the desserts menu as the waiter smiles patiently. Deciding on his favorite tried and true strawberry shortcake, his eyes flick up and the lapel pin on the boys' white dress shirt reads 'Hangyul'. Serim can only politely say, "I'll have one slice of the strawberry shortcake. Thanks." 

"No problem!" Hangyul says happily, as if he won a prize for making another customer spend more money than necessary. In response, Serim can only give a menial tip. He feels cheated by society, but can't help himself. If he could, he wouldn't tip at all.

As the plentiful slice of cake is placed in front of him, the door rings and Serim naturally turns his head to glance at who it is, as he's been doing for the past 2 hours. Smirking, he tastes the sweet cake, allowing himself to revel in the cash spent and the cash he'll recieve. Bingo, target acquired. 

There's Allen Ma in all his FBI glory, not even needing to order because the baristas already whipping something up as soon as they waved and walked in. The rookie agent's here with some of his rowdy coworkers, not yet noticing Serim innocently tucked away in the corner of the building. The FBI group settles in a table, casual bantering ensues, and they chat for about 10 minutes with their drinks. Allen gets some sort of chocolate drink, much different to his caffeine addicted coworkers. Seems to fit his unexpected personality, and Serim can't really afford to feel bad for this job as his coworkers stand up to leave. It doesn't mean he doesn't feel bad, though. Just regards Allen of pity. 

He's still talking to one of the officers, a higher up, Serim would assume. Probably talking about the meeting Wonjin had, about when to attack and uncover this whole business. It's nice to know you're undercover beforehand. Neutral face, Serim coolly makes his way to the agent.

As Allen turns to leave along with his buddies, Serim just seems to 'accidently' walk past him in that instance, hitting his shoulder, and spilling the chocolate drink on his cheap, but white sweater. This is why he doesn't buy white clothes, it looks like someone took a dump on his sweater. 

"Oh! I'm so sorry! I-I didn't even see you, I'll-uh go get some napkins! Just wait!" And with that, Allen's gone to the waiters, getting a whole stack of napkins. Serim, conjuring up every ounce of his acting skills, feigns surprise and annoyance. Pulling off the soiled sweater, he's left with a slightly less ruined button down. Pushing up the sleeves to his elbows, at least it shows all his hard work spent at the gym.

Rushing back in a flurry, Allen looks just as soft as the first time, even in his uptight uniform. The agent seems frantic to ease the crease on Serim's forehead, and proceeds to soak up the extra liquids. "I'm really sorry! I didn't even see you there, I must've been too wrapped up in talking. I'll clean your sweater or buy you a drink or something, whatever you want." 

"Hey, aren't you the guy at the gas station? The special agent?" Serim asks, fighting a snicker. 

Studying his face, Allen's eyes light up as recognition hits. "Serim? From the gas station? Wow, it really is a small world. Sorry for um, you know, spilling my drink and everything."

Serim's not acting when a faint smile appears on his face. It's like going through a script, and Allen is reading it perfectly. "Oh it's fine, this is the reason why I usually don't wear white, but I guess today isn't my lucky day."

"Yeah, I prefer black anyways," Allen jokes, "And I can dry clean your sweater, by the way. It's my fault this happened anyways."

"Didn't you say something about buying me a drink instead?" Teases Serim, the charming smile making an appearance. In response, Allen flusters, "I did, didn't I? Well, uh, if that's what you want, I guess that works. Any drink preferences? I would recommend the chocolate mocha, but um, if you want something less sweet I've heard the americano is always a safe choice…" 

Slyly, Serim takes a step closer, admiring Allen's side profile as he looks up to the menu. Questioning, he breaks the boys' babbles, "Are you busy tonight?" 

The options were friend or boyfriend, and it's all depending on Allen's reactions. Honestly boyfriend is way easier, but luck hasn’t exactly been on his side his whole life. Look at what he's doing. 

"Um, nope. Nothing important," Allen replies, glancing cautiously at the taller boy, "Why are you asking?" 

His reaction is a mix. Sure he was flustered before, but that was because of the accident, and although Allen's stammering, he's also not avoiding eye contact. In fact, he's almost in a defensive stance. Scared of the implications of what, Serim doesn't know exactly, but today isn't the day to find out. 

"I just didn't wanna hold you up or anything. You know, since it's probably been a long day for you," Serim says, lying through his teeth, "Anyways, I'll try the chocolate mocha? You made it sound too good to pass." Another lie, he's addicted to caffeine.

"Good choice," says Allen, his small smile reappearing. Serim lets out a small sigh as he finds a table for two. Within minutes, two mugs filled with decadent mocha are placed by Hangyul, who has the audacity to wink at Serim. Biting his tongue, Serim should've thought this through more. From Hangyul's point of view, he's an absolute loser who spent two hours alone at a café, only to spend more time here with a stranger.

Serim, giving Allen his full attention asks, "You know, I watch a lot of crime shows, and I was wondering if working for the FBI anything like it is on T.V.? Like with all the undercover agents and backstabbing?"

"Ha, I wish. Honestly, it's kinda boring. I mean, since I'm new I get the most paper work, but overall undercover stuff is really rare. I even answer calls and stuff too, I'm basically a glorified secretary."

"A secretary that gets paid well, better than someone working at a gas station," Serim mutters, a mocking smile as Allen rolls his eyes. Sipping on the drink, it's predictably too sweet for Serim's taste, but he swallows it down because he's not really himself, but rather a portrait of Allen's desires.

Allen just smirks, "Let's just say I don't have to worry about paying rent, but I still buy food from gas stations. It's really not all that it's hyped up to be, I knew that but still, it's disappointing. I kinda thought I would be doing some world changing work, but-yeah. Although, our department has a pretty interesting case right now."

Serim is all ears, "Is it the mafia? Are you investigating the drug trade from Mexico to Canada, or the fentanyl from China?" Allen doesn't say anything, an amused look on his face, so Serim keeps going, "Or are you exposing a supposedly non-profit organization that monopolizes education (cough cough College Board)? What about the university scandal of rich white people buying a seat for their incompetent kids? Is it an illegal child trafficking ring? I hope it's not the last one." 

Allen just laughs at the poor guesses, "Sorry, it's confidential information. My lips are sealed, but I will say that it's not the last one, so don't worry."

"Thank goodness, hopefully that doesn't exist. But hey, it's your fault you told me it's an interesting case. You baited me. How will I ever sleep without knowing what it is?" Serim remarks, hoping he's not coming off too flirty. So far, Allen doesn't seem to be repulsed. 

"Maybe in a couple of months, you'll know." Allen says cryptically, winking. Serim wants to say, 'I'll probably know beforehand,' but he just grins a little bigger than usual, hiding it behind his cup as he takes a sip.

"I-uh don't wanna be too forward, but I have an extra movie ticket for a new movie, and all my friends are busy this weekend. I don't really like watching movies by myself," Serim confesses, a hand on his neck, "So I was wondering if you would like to watch it with me?"

Mouth open, Allen seems to return to that cautious state. As if he's weighing his options, his face is contorting, thinking, and Serim really hopes he didn't mess it up, 'I mean, it's totally fine if you don't wanna go, I'll jus-"

"No! No, it's-uh, it's fine. I have nothing planned for the weekend, and my friends are always telling me to explore the city more, so yeah. I'll go." Allen says sheepishly. 

"Great, and I'll pay for the snacks, my treat." Allen looks like he wants to protest, but Serim doesn't let him. "Consider us even since you bought me a drink."

"Only because I spilled my drink on your sweater," Retorts Allen.

"Well, you aren't from here, right?" Serim asks, as if he didn't study his profile for hours. Allen was born and raised in Los Angeles, California, only to move here because of the job opportunity. "Consider it a welcoming gift from someone who grew up in Vancouver. Besides, if you really want you can pay for something the next time."

"Who says there'll be a next time?" Allen teases, and luckily he no longer looks afraid, or if he is he's concealing it better. It would really suck if Allen was homophobic. "Also, I'm from Los Angeles. I moved here because I got the FBI job, but I barely know anything about the city. I've barely gone sightseeing."

"Well, if you ever need a tour guide, I can show you all the tourist spots and best restaurants," suggests Serim, then he hands Allen his phone. "Can I get your number? I'll text you all the details about the movie and stuff."

"Yeah, sure." Allen obediently types in his number, and Serim is ecstatic. His number is saved as a simple, 'Allen' with seven little digits Serim will most likely memorize in the next hour. 

The pair spends a couple more minutes talking before they leave the café, cups empty. Walking in opposite directions, Allen waves back as Serim does the same. All in all, it could've gone more smoothly, but he has a new number to memorize, so really it was successful none the less. Allen is still a mystery to him, though. Serim wouldn't be lying if he said he wouldn't mind dating him, but it doesn't even matter because it's all superficial at this point and Allen thinks he likes chocolate mocha. The more he can detach himself, the better. He might need to restrain himself.

Only when he goes to bed, does he text Allen. When the other boy says he'll be there, Serim lets out a small smile all alone in his dorm. He doesn't want to think about why, but he chalks it up to the fact that the plan is working. There's no other reason, anyways.

-

_October_

Allen's late. Checking his phone for the nth time, Allen is now twenty minutes late. He's only been stood up a handful of times, but a heads up would've been nice. His paycheck is on the line.

Throughout the last week or so, the two of them have been texting regularly. Sending memes, telling funny stories, and articles that are ridiculous. Usually Allen complains about this one co-worker (his name is Seungyoun and he makes Allen do all the menial paperwork), while Serim complains about his classes and unfair assignments. 

Standing by the concession stand, Serim's dressed in black skinny jeans, a fitted white t-shirt, and a sleek leather jacket. Through the scatter of people, out pops out copper toned hair. Looking abashed, the boy is nervously searching for him, eyes darting. It's kind of cute.

"Allen! Over here,." When the younger sees him, a huge smile overtakes him. Once they're standing in front of each other, Serum can feel the admiring gaze as he does a subtle once over. The younger looks good, in light wash jeans and a hoodie. His hair is slightly tousled, probably by the strong wind.

"Hey Serim, sorry I'm late, the bus was running behind." Apologizes Allen, his ears a bit red. "We're not too late for the movie, right?"

"I already got the snacks, so we're good, but we should probably head over to the theatre," Serim says, munching on some popcorn, walking towards the screening. "I got two slushes, blue raspberry and strawberry cause I don't know what you like. You can take your pick, I like both."

"Why thank you, I'll take strawberry," Allen says graciously, drinking some of the punch-red slurpee. It leaves a ruby tint on Allen's lips, and Serim almost trips when he sees that. Hopefully when his lips turn blue, Allen's knees will turn weak, too. Settling down into an aisle, he's never been so grateful for the dim atmosphere. The trailers are already playing, and in a velvet voice to his left, Allen whispers, "So, uh, exactly what movie are we watching?"

"Oh, did I forget to tell you?" Serim asks, trying to sound genuine, "Since it's Halloween, the theatre is playing a bunch of throwback horror movies. That's kind of how I got the tickets, anyways, we're watching The Shining. It's my favorite horror movie."

"The-the Shining? Like, like the one by-uh Stephen King?" Stammers Allen, his eyes widening comically. Serim just smirks, the plan is going along perfectly. "Are you scared? Sorry, I should've told you beforehand, I totally forgot. We can probably sneak into another theatre if you wanna watch something else."

Conflicted, Allen has a scrunch on his nose. Serim can practically hear him thinking. His ears turn scarlet, and it's not because he was rushing from the late bus, it's because he's embarrassed. "No, no it's okay. I'm-uh kinda scared of horror movies, but I haven't seen one since I was like sixteen, so I'm sure I'll be okay."

Raising an eyebrow, Serim calls out his thinly veiled bluff, "Are you sure? You don't sound very, confident. In fact, you sound scare-"

"No! No, it’s fine. I'll be fine. You already got the tickets and snacks, I might as well try to enjoy myself." Allen tries convincing himself, a small smile seen through the dim lighting. Serim just shrugs his shoulders as the trailers come to a close. Black out, and as the opening scene plays with the title card, he can already feel Allen stiffen next to him. The movie has barely begun.

Around thirty minutes in, Allen seems to be faring well. Serim hasn’t heard a scream yet, only a couple of gasps, but it's about to get much worse. As the suspense builds and the crowd all collectively screams, Allen lets out a yelp, gripping tightly on Serim's arm. From the movie lighting, he can see Allen with his eyes closed shut, grimacing as the movie doesn't let up.

It's pretty cute, Serim thinks, as Allen seems intent on blocking out as much of the movie as possible. Time to play the boyfriend or the caring friend role. Tapping Allen's shoulder, he whispers, "Hey, are you okay?"

As if struck by lightning, Allen immediately lets go of the leather jacket and the warm body underneath it, "Oh! I'm-uh, I didn't mean to do that. Sorry, I'll just uh,"

"It's okay. You can hold onto me," the line kills something inside of Serim purely because of how cringy it is, but there's really no other way to say it. He can faintly make out the outlines of Allen's face with the lack of light, but he doesn't seem opposed. Probably the adrenaline influencing it. "Here, you can hold onto my arm."

Putting his arm on the drink stand that separates them, he gives Allen a warm smile. The younger seems uncertain, his pupils shaking, but when the music crescendos and the crowd gasps, he jumps back into Serim's arms. Chuckling, Serim just pulls him closer in. Their hands link up, and Allen doesn't let go until the credits roll.

The rest of the movie consists of Allen peeking through one hand, adamant on knowing what will happen to Jack, though still hiding when it gets too scary. At the end when the lights come back on and the crowd starts shuffling to leave, is when Allen struggles to properly return to his own seat, no more body contact. There's a flush on his face, probably from embarrassment. Allen doesn't say anything, and so the two of them stay there as the credits roll to an end.

With no one left in the theatre except them, a nervous Allen finally faces a curious Serim. "I'm-uh, sorry for holding onto you. You probably have marks on your arm from how hard I was gripping. I guess I'm still scared of horror movies."

"It's all good, seriously. I didn't mind at all," Serim lies, his arm has had three different cramps in the span of an hour, "And The Shining is a classic horror movie, of course you'd be scared. You ready to go?"

Allen seems to hesitate, not taking any steps to move. It looks like he's holding his breath, as if there's something disgusting in the air. In a small voice, he mumbles, "Do you like guys?"

Struggling to decipher Allen's words, he thinks he has a pretty good idea of what Allen's asking, but it's such a weird question at the wrong time. "Sorry, what did you say?"

Allen's turns even redder. He seems nervous, almost scared. Scared of asking Serim if he's gay, or finding out the answer? What does it matter unless he's uncomfortable with it, or into it? Repeating the question, Allen looks like he regrets saying anything in the first place. "I-I said, do you like guys?"

A beat of silence fills the theatre, "Yes, I do like guys." Serim says slowly, because it's true, and he really doubts Allen is a raging homophobe, but anything is possible. It's not like it says Allen's sexual preferences on the information sheets he was given. 

"Do you have any issues with that?" Serim warns gently. Allen looks so small in that moment, curling into his seat. The tension is as thick as molasses, and the huge theatre doesn't feel as open as it is empty.

"No, I-uh, I was just wondering. I don't have any no issues with, that. We should go now," Allen mutters, and in a second the employees come in, ready to clean with a broom and dustpan in hand. The boy isn’t making eye contact with Serim, won't even look at his face. Serim can feel his grasp on the money slipping. At this rate, Allen would probably fall off the face of the earth just to avoid him. 

Awkwardly walking out of the theatre, the creases in his leather jacket don't seem to matter as much anymore. Allen was scared, so obviously he grabbed onto the nearest living thing. Regardless, Serim needs to keep this flame alive, for his own wellbeing. Standing outside in the night, Serim forces the boy to face him, "Hey Allen, this is kinda lame, but I think you're a really nice guy, and I like hanging out with you. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable during the movie, we can totally pretend it never happened."

Although he consented, Serim can see how forward he was with body contact, especially with someone you barely know. He can't just cut ties with Allen if he's homophobic. There's always a wicked wrench in the plan.

"No! No, you didn't make me uncomfortable, it's all my fault, really. I was scared, and you were right there, and I just-, Look, I think you're a cool guy too," Allen mentions this with a guilty smile, as if he was caught stealing cookies in the middle of the night. "And, I was actually wondering if you wanted to come hang out with some of my friends."

At this, Serim perks up, but Allen is still struggling to maintain eye contact. "It's a small Halloween party at my place, but my friends keep bothering me, asking about you, so do you think you'll be free in two weeks?"

"Oh, do you talk to your friends about me?" Serim grins, and maybe he's pushing it, but that's what makes it fun. "I can't wait to meet them. I hope you're telling your friends good things about me, like 'he's so funny' or 'he's hotter than Zac Efron'."

"I don't! They're just curious who I keep texting," Pouts Allen, and Serim is glad the tension is gone. Even in the thick wind, he doesn't feel colder. "Also, you better wear a costume on Halloween, it's tradition. And for the record, Zac Efron is way hotter than you'll ever be."

In the crisp autumn night, the walk to the bus station doesn't feel as cold. Brimming with something, Serim thinks sparks can fly out of his hands if he so wills it. 

-

If anything, this is probably better than what he originally had planned for Halloween, which was just going to a club with Wonjin and some of his friends, and getting piss drunk. At least this way, he might actually remember the night and make some progress.

Allen texted him his address, so here he stands, in front of unpolished apartment complex with the number 9 hanging crooked on the door. Bearing a welcome gift, he even bought the expensive beer. Knocking, a couple seconds later an unfamiliar face opens the door, and Serim's previous anxiety about wearing a costume lowers as he sees a stranger. "Allen! I think it's Serim!"

The stranger is dressed as a wizard, shiny robes and pointy hat and all. He even has lavender hair to match, and gives Serim a pointed smile, eyes narrowing, "You are Serim, right?"

"Last time I checked, yep." Serim chuckles as the guy lets him in. "I'm Jungmo, Allen's roommate by the way. I've heard a lot about you."

"Oh, really? All good things I hope." The apartment is pretty average, cheap wooden flooring and chatter in the other room. The FBI must not be paying all that well. Jungmo smiles dumbly, leading Serim down the small entrance way to the living room. "I like your costume, by the way. Do you actually play football? It looks pretty legit."

It's nothing special, but it's his old high school football uniform, huge shoulder pads included. Number 37 is pasted in white on the navy blue jersey, and it’s been hiding in his closet ever since his last game in high school. Slightly abashed, Serim replies, "How did you know? I used to play in high school, but now it's the only costume I have."

"I like it. It's better than those people who wear animal ears and call it a costume." Jungmo says, and they enter the noisy living room with what Serim hears is Allen's voice. It's small but cozy, with some houseplants by the window sill and a bookshelf filled with various textbooks.

"Serim! You're costume is great! You've got that American football vibe from movies. You kinda look like Aaron Samuels from 'Mean Girls'," Allen exclaims as he sees him, fake blood on his face and ragged dirty clothes. With deadly dark eye circles and mussed hair, he's your average zombie. "Everyone, this is Serim. He's a, the new friend I told you guys about, anyways this is Hyeongjun, Minhee, Seongmin, Taeyoung, and you've already met Jungmo."

Saying greetings to everyone and settling in the empty spot next to Allen, he takes everything in. Hyeongjun is the one wearing white bunny ears sitting next to Minhee who is a knight, while Seongmin is some sort of anime character that he forgot, and Taeyoung is a rip off Iron Man. "We were just waiting for you to play some party games. Want anything to drink? Everything's fair game." Allen says.

"Sure, I'll have a little bit, and I come bearing gifts," Serim presents the still cold beer, perspiring as he places it on the table. Taking a shot of something vanilla Allen offers him, he comments, "Nice costume, very original. Just a zombie on Halloween?" 

Allen gives him an offended glare. "What do you mean? I'm a zombie groom, can't you see the suit and the ring? I died during the wedding, but now I've resurrected from the grave! Besides, it's way more creative than a football player, and scarier." Retorts Allen, proud of his costume. Looking closer, Serim does notice it is a black suit, but with all the blood and rips, anything from a dumpster would've worked just fine. 

"Congratulations, you won the costume contest." Deadpans Serim as Allen scowls back, "I'll admit my costume isn't the best, but at least I showed up in a costume. It has to at least be on par with your zombie groom."

"My costume has way more effort than yours. I stained this suit, made my own fake blood, and I even did my own makeup. This look took me three hours while you threw on a jersey and some white tights," Argues Allen, his face creasing the thick white face paint. It makes Serim smile. 

"Let's start beer pong!" Iron man aka Taeyoung announces, holding up the signature red cups with the enthusiasm of a high schooler. Cheers follow from the statement as the others set up the table, Hyeongjun whining that the cups aren't straight. It reminds Serim of his partying days, and maybe in another world they could've been friends under different circumstances. 

Allen rolls his eyes with a caring smile. "We're basically the oldest here. Seongmin and Taeyoung are in their second year of university, and the others are basically only a year older. They're still in their party phase, they haven't experienced the despair of the job force."

"Do you have no friends your own age?" Serim teases. Allen's ears turn ever so slightly scarlet

"Well, I have you, don't I?" Allen counters, and Serim would consider it on the line of flirting, but the boy says it so casually that Serim must be overthinking it. "Since Jungmo's my roommate, I met all of them through him. Making new friends in a new city is, uh, kind of difficult. I don't really have university to make friends, and all my co-workers are twice my age, so, yeah."

"Well, I'm here, aren't I?" Serim repeats, and something passes over Allen's face before it vanishes as- "We're starting! Serim! Allen! Get over here!"

It's not until after the beer pong and the multiple other games that come after, is when Serim finally gets alone time with Allen. He's already gotten close with the others, mostly because he won every round and whoever was on his team never had to drink, but Serim attributes that to his natural charm. Allen, already tipsy to begin with, gets worse as he keeps missing. Though the opaque make up, a rosy blush begins to set in, flushing from his ears to his neck. Once everyone is off the high, Minhee voices out watching a horror movie, and with Allen's protests drowned out by 'It's Halloween though!', Train to Busan is currently an hour in. 

Spread out between the couch and the floor, the seven boys lay sprawled out. It's nearing 3 am, but luckily Serim is used to this. Next to him, Allen doesn't seem to be faring to well, his head already on a pillow in an awkward position, struggling to keep his eyes open despite the zombies on screen. He's not holding onto Serim's arm like the last time. The rest of the boys are either watching entranced, or sleeping like the dead. 

"Allen, you still awake?" Whispers Serim. Late night conversations are always fun, an unsaid necessity growing up. When you add alcohol? A drunk mind speaks sober thoughts. Allen blinks a couple of times, before slurring, "Yeah, what's up?" 

"Do you wanna talk about that time at the movie theatre?" Playing with Allen's hand, Serim hopes he keeps up the comfortable atmosphere. The whole night has been smooth sailing, there's no need for foreign aid. 

"What? Not really," Allen mumbles, pouting, face digging to into the pillow, pulling his hand out of Serim's. He's folding into himself, tugging at his clothes. Like a little boy hiding from the thunder and lightning.

"Why not?" 

Allen's face scrunches again, mumbling back. "Don't wanna think about it. I just, like you. Right now, this is nice. You're nice."

"Allen, what are you talking about?" Serim questions, but the inkling of more is there. It's always been there, hidden by Allen's cautious actions and words, his unknown fear. The tension's suspended by a fraying thread.

While drunk, Allen has the new ability of making direct eye contact while talking. It's hypnotic, and he only falters slightly when he's eyes drop down to Serim's mouth as he talks. Then, in a flurry, Allen huddles under the blankets, retreating. "There's nothing. Nothing to talk about, I just-this is stupid," then like waving a white flag, he begs, "I wanna go to sleep."

Serim comes in closer to the guarded boy, crowds into his personal space as Allen is powerless to push him away, his limbs like jelly. 

All Allen can do is stare dazedly, and though the only light is coming from a T.V., Serim would bet millions that Allen is punch drunk red. Glinting in the dark, his eyes look so helpless. Helpless and hopeful. Serim is anything but a people pleaser, but for Allen and the money, he can gladly change that. He can fulfill each and every one of Allen's hopes, if necessary. 

"Allen, do you like me?" Holding his breath, Serim thinks he already knows the answer. 

Mouth parched, Allen is caught red-handed. As if the police are interrogating him, he hides behind his hands, and finally whispers into the dark, "Am I that obvious?" 

Hugging Allen, close and tight, Serim grins as wide as the Pacific ocean. Boyfriends it is. In the living room with bodies all over, it feels like they're in another world, so far removed from the tragedies that litter their life. The only real problem concerning Serim is that Allen won't remember the night. It's okay though, because this is all the confirmation he needs. 

The morning after, when Allen wakes up to Serim's chest, he doesn't say anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter should be out in a week? Hope you enjoyed reading, but also I'm a starving artist and your compliments feed me, so please feel free to leave comments about anything! I love to hear feedback.
> 
> Thanks for reading :))))


	2. You Got That Temporary Cherry Blossom Potion on Your Lips

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chap title from the song Hard to Say Goodbye by Johnny Stimson.

_November_

The leaves are a myriad of warm colors through the huge antique glass windows. 

Sipping on cheap MacDonald's iced coffee, Serim's sitting in the university library doing whatever a music major does. He's supposed to write an essay about Buddy Rich and jazz, but Serim is just watching old clips of Buddy Rich playing with the Muppets. Next to him, Wonjin is sleeping. Probably a busy night, or a night gone wrong, or both.

An hour passes while Serim manages to string together a couple of sentences that render coherent, when Wonjin wakes up and nudges his shoulder. "What time is it?"

"4:22," Serim grunts, "Are you done the essay?"

Wonjin just yawns, "Of course not, why would I start so early? We still have a week, at least. I wasn't my high school's president for nothing."

"Sure, but not everyone can write it up the night before. Some people actually wanna pass with good grades because this is all that they have going for them," Serim mutters, finishing his coffee. "Not everyone is you. Some people have jobs to attend to. Some people have other legal obligations."

"Just because my job doesn't have tax reductions doesn't mean it's any less real. Besides, I've perfected the skill of leaving it the night before, and finishing with minimal consequences. What can I say? I'm just gifted." Wonjin says matter of factly, and then gives him a look, "Did you talk to him yet? It's been like two months."

"Yeah, it's been going well. He doesn't hate me, so that’s always a good sign." Serim answers, drawing doodles of cute frogs over the empty margins of paper.

Wonjin has a twisted look to his face, teasing, "Oh, what is it this time Serim? Lovesick boyfriend or really close platonic friend?" Serim just throws a pencil at him, "What do you think?" 

"Hm, well the guy is pretty cute, at least on his Instagram. I say lovesick boyfriends, and all you do is feed each other ice cream and call each other 'sweetie pie'." Wonjin says sweetly, his voice two octaves higher. 

"Wow, accurate as always, except we already adopted a cat and he calls me 'honeybun' and I call him 'buttercup'." Retorts Serim and Wonjin fake gags. 

"Ugh, don't come at me with your fantasies about domestic bliss. I'm more about that kinky stuff." Wonjin has the audacity to wink. Serim wants to sock him in the face.

"Did not need to know that," bites Serim, rolling his eyes, and then a soft smile graces his face rather than his normal line and Wonjin, the clever guy he is, catches it immediately. "So what, you like the guy? Or are you just thinking about what my kinks are?"

Serim decides to not take the bait, and responds back calmly. "I think you have a daddy kink, and I like him as much as the next guy. It's nice that he's cute though, that's always a plus. And he's not a jerk of a human, so that's good."

"Okay, but like how cute are we talking? Baby cute or like I wanna see you on your knees cute?" 

Processing Wonjin's last words, the image without fail pops into his head. It's, honestly kinda hot. Any guy on his knees for Serim is hot, but he can't stop thinking of it. "Earth to Serim? Did you really just daydream about the guy on his knees? In front of my salad?" Wonjin does not have a salad. "You face says you like it. So much for being an actor."

"Any guy on his knees for me is hot, and you know it." Serim counters, and now the image of innocent Allen is forever stained into his memory. Wonjin just gives him a look that says 'keep telling yourself that', and adds in, "I'm kinda jealous. You get paid for this crap while I'm running around the city. You get to hang out with cute boys. You're basically a glorified babysitter or a toned down prostitute."

Serim scoffs, "I like to call it charming someone, and no one told you had to do that. I better get paid too, serenading someone takes a lot of work." 

"Serenading!" Wonjin's face has all the amusement of a amusement park, "I think that's the first time I've heard you use that word. You're gonna sweep the boy off his feet." 

"And then drop him fifty feet when I break his heart," Serim says matter of factly. Wonjin only laughs in response. "Yeah, well, all's fair in love and war, at least you're not doing anything violent."

The 'like me' at the end is unsaid but a given, so Serim just looks at him skeptically, "Do you even know where that's from?"

"Does it matter?" questions Wonjin, and then under his breath, "it just sounded like a good line."

"Sure it is." Serim lamely agrees, staring off into the distance, and then he sees it. It's the signature strawberry bubble gum wrapper, littered on an empty table. The same exact brand that Allen bought all those weeks ago, even matching the shade of the red slushie at the theatre. 

Although it's kind of a corny plan, Serim decides to use strawberry gum. The same strawberry gum Allen bought two packs of. Psychologists say people will trust you more, subconsciously or not, if they like the way you smell. The next night shift, Serim sneaks out a whole two stack of strawberry gum into his worn out backpack, now sitting innocuously in his desk.

It's his favorite too, so he might as well have some fun on the job, he is an artist after all. A starving artist at that. Living from paycheck to paycheck isn't exactly luxurious, and for him the gas station is the new Whole Foods. 

-

Allen's never brings up that night on Halloween, so Serim doesn't either. He just needs the right time to 'confess'. 

They're at a nearby MacDonald's by waterfront, catching up because that's what friends do, is what Serim keeps telling himself. Allen gets hot chocolate while he settles for vanilla iced coffee. It's not exactly romantic, but there's no need because they're not an a date. Maybe tomorrow it'll be, or in a couple of months, but not right now.

As soon as Allen gets his hands on the hot chocolate, he pulls the small tab off the cup, revealing a monopoly game piece as per the MacDonald's Monopoly advertisement everywhere on T.V. and billboards. Judging by his kicked puppy demeaner, Serim can only assume he didn't win. Allen shows Serim his game piece in a dejected manner, 'St. James Place' it says, on an orange tile. "Ugh, another St. James. I already have dozens of these."

"Here, you can have mine," Serim suggests, and Allen brightens up only slightly. "Thanks."

Allen pulls it open and a sour look overcomes his features. The game piece is 'St. James Place' again, staring at Allen mockingly. Serim consoles him as best as possible, "You know, it's probably rigged. It's not like we have a feasible chance of winning anything, it's all a marketing scheme. The most you can probably win is like, a free coffee or donut."

Eyebrows raised, Allen just looks at him funnily. "Yeah, it probably is, but I still want to win," he complains sipping on the sweet hot chocolate in hopes of mending his disappointment. Serim just shrugs his shoulders. 

"You know, you could win a car! Or a gift card! Or even a million bucks!" Allen adds in when Serim just remains neutral, and when he isn't as excited, Allen continues prodding, "Don't you think it's morally wrong if the game is rigged? Shouldn't everyone have a legitimate chance to win? All the commercials are essential lying to everyone. It's false marketing! It's fraud if it's rigged!"

Serim can only nod in response while Allen plops down into his chair, exasperated. Serim consoles him again, "I mean, yeah it sucks, but how does anyone actually know it's rigged? Like, aren't there million dollar winners? I see their commercial on T.V. all the time, wasn't Kim Wooseok a winner in California?"

Allen nods his head, "You're right, Wooseok was a winner last year. The crazy thing is that the all of the past winners are actually related, friends and family. I can't really explain it right now, but the odds are already ridiculous. The chances are one in sixteen million. To have two family members, let alone three, win a million dollars is near impossible." 

Eyeing the nearby tables, Allen then under his breath says, "I know I said I couldn't tell you about the case we're investigating, but we're actually looking into the MacDonald's Monopoly game."

Mouth hanging open, all Serim can do is stare at Allen's completely serious face. Oh, so this is real. This whole organized crime thing that Serim is wrapped into is because of the MacDonald's Monopoly game. Never in a million years did he think it was this. This isn't acting, hasn't been for a while, rather it's thinly veiled acting.

It sounds so fake, like someone insisting the moon is a lie fabricated by the United States. The FBI is investigating fraud. Suddenly, the fast food restaurant seems to stare down at him with beady eyes, like he's a part of an invisible crime scene. He didn't even know the mafia would take part in anything concerning a Happy Meal. It's like your history textbook reporting that Dora was in World War 2. 

Playing with the strings on his hoodie, Allen awaits for Serim to close his mouth, warning, "You better not tell anyone. I trust you, and it's like you'll scurry off and tell the mafia."

"Ha-ha, yeah-you're right-" cough," That's um, pretty interesting." Serim chokes out as he drinks more coffee to digest this newfound information. It's interesting, to say the least. Wonjin was supposed to tell him what the FBI we're investigating in the next month, but this was his last guess. 

"Yeah, I always thought the odds of winning we're extremely low anyways, but when I investigated the tip we got from a phone call, it blew my mind!" Allen's hands are frantically waving around in the air, and then he whisper shouts, "This means someone is stealing the game pieces!" 

Slack jawed, Serim is trying to remember everything Allen is telling him. Now is not the time for screw ups. He has a lot of questions for Wonjin, the bastard. "That's pretty insane."

"It's crazy, isn't it? We don't actually know if they're stealing the game pieces, or how they're getting it, but it's definitely all connected." Allen's still keeping his voice low, but the urgency in his inflection has Serim on the edge of his seat. 

"We decided to name it 'Operation Final Answer' after 'Who Wants to Be a Millionaire', and we're even working with MacDonald's to figure it out! It's kinda is like I'm in a spy movie, though all my co-workers insist this is a once in a life time case." Grins Allen, excited like a little kid. "It even involves some undercover work."

How ironic is it that they're both working undercover? Serim, stunned, just nods attentively. And that's that. 

-

_December_

"So," Serim starts, "It's about the MacDonald's Monopoly game?"

Wonjin just smiles good-naturedly. "Eh, to be honest I have no idea how it works, but yeah, that's basically it. White collar fraud at its finest."

The two are at the gas station again, and if you look out the window you'll see a fluorescent MacDonald's down the road. Serim thinks it's terribly ironic. Really, anywhere he goes now, he can spot a MacDonald's in a 2 mile radius. It's mocking him now, too. 

"Wow, that sure is…something," Serim replies, monotone. He retells everything Allen told him, and at the end Wonjin pulls out his reward. A compact, clean envelope. He's never asked about the organization, but his interest is piqued. "So who's in charge of the MacDonald's crime?"

Wonjin sighs, "Look, it's one guy we call J. I'm not close with him, he probably doesn't even know my name, but there's a whole network of people. It's actually better to not know." Then he smirks, "You'll know more than me when you're with Allen."

Serim just grins, he's getting antsy. "For sure, Wonjin. Anything else to report?"

"Nope, see you soon," and Wonjin is already out of the door, his pink hair a beacon in the dark as the snow swirls around him. Serim thinks he can see him drive his car to the MacDonald's down the street if he squints, but he's always had bad vision. 

The envelope of cash is always dirty money, and he doesn't mind it. That's what you get when you play with people's hearts. Yeah, he feels a bit guilty, but if he focuses on the good, like paying rent, the feeling goes away. Besides, it's fun to play with Allen. He's stupidly cute, and they make favorable conversation, what's not to like?

If he goes to bed with a smile on his face, no one is none the wiser. His parents even wish him a 'Merry Christmas' during their monthly phone call, without the disappointing tone. It's a work in progress, even if they don't send him money. His quality of life is the same, but hope doesn't seem as distant.

-

Shivering in the light snow, frost covers every inch of grass as far as the eye can see. 

Pulling on his jean jacket, Serim regrets not wearing something warmer and swears to invest in a scarf and beanie. His face must be flushed. Chewing on a new piece of strawberry gum, he can never be too prepared. 

Making his way to Allen's apartment, the nearby stores are all decorated in multicolored Christmas lights and wreaths, from bakeries to hardware shops. With the sun setting casting a warm glow, it looks like a winter wonderland. Knocking on the door waiting impatiently, he's never been more grateful for electricity. When he sees Allen smile, opening the door and ushering him in, electricity is nothing compared to the way his heart grows a little bit bigger.

They've made a routine of watching movies every two weeks, either at the movie theatre or at Allen's apartment. Jungmo joins in every once in a while, sometimes the whole group will binge some movies, but as Serim settles on the couch the Jungmo is nowhere to be seen. Poking his head into the tiny kitchen where he saw Allen, he asks, "Is Jungmo watching with us?"

"Naw, he's out with Minhee. Something about a university club, but he'll probably spend the night at Minhee's dorm. Anyways, what movie do you wanna watch? It's your turn to pick," Allen says, switching the lights off and bringing out the homey blankets, sitting down next to Serim.

"Isn't Hamilton out? I wanna watch that," Serim suggests, and they shuffle on the couch until there's body contact, half cuddling. It's an unsaid agreement, but ever since the horror movies Allen has a penchant for snuggling up to Serim, nervous yet hopeful. Even now, after so many months he still struggles to comfortably ask for the action.

Serim, the people pleaser that he is, just grins when he sees Allen hold back, and gently curl up to him, body language open. They never say anything, but Serim can tell how relieved Allen is every time he silently offers. 

"I was waiting for you to watch it with me. I've been eyeing it since it came out yesterday. Be ready for me to rap every song, I've memorized all the lyrics," mentions Allen, a taunting smile on his face. Serim knows he's not bluffing because when they share music, at least one Hamilton song is on there. 

"You're on," Serim answers, and it's true that he knows some lyrics, but only to three songs, Satisfied and the Cabinet Battles. The online musical plays before them, music filling the quaint room as the sky gets darker. Allen raps under his breath for most of the songs, singing along when it reaches the climax, and Serim can't help but link their hands together under the ratty blanket. Allen doesn't pull away, hasn't been since Halloween.

It's nearing eleven o'clock by the time the movie ends, and it's to no one's surprise that Allen cries. It's the post emotional high that carries through as Serim gets up to leave and Allen walks him to the door. Serim's standing under the doorway, ready to leave when Allen glances above him, unsure gaze resting there for a second before looking back to Serim. Confused, Serim looks right above him and there it is, a sprig of mistletoe. 

Taped messily on the frame of the doorway, it stands out so much more than the other Christmas festivities. Realization dawns on him without fail, looking back to Allen with a small smile. Bright red berries with lush green leaves, Allen shakily says, "Jungmo must've put it there."

By Allen's faint blush, Serim knows that they both understand what it means, and what they're supposed to do. Allen, the ever nervous, ignores the whole ordeal. "Well, you should probably get going, it's pretty dark and cold outside."

Pointing at the mistletoe, Serim asks, "You know what this means right?"

Playing with the sleeve of his hoodie, Allen struggles to hold eye contact. Serim can see his mouth moving, but nothings coming out. It's like words are failing him, forgetting language altogether. Instead, Allen nods hesitantly.

"Can I kiss you?" Grins Serim, gently moving closer to the frozen boy.

When Allen doesn't respond, Serim teasingly repeats, "It's mistletoe, we can't ignore the Christmas spirit. Besides, you don't have to tell anyone, if you don't want to. You can say no, too."

"I-uh, yeah. I mean, yes, you can kiss me." Allen mumbles. Blush traveling to his ears and neck, he stands there helpless to Serim's devices. Still so shy and cautious, he stares at the floor. It's an open invitation with his plush lips shining pink under the warm lights.

Sweetly smirking, this is what Serim has been waiting for. Finally cultivating the fruits of his labor, he cradles Allen's face with one hand, gently pulling him to meet his lips. It's a short kiss, lasting less than two seconds but Allen responds as if he was caught doing something scandalous. The boy is burning up under Serim, fingers grasping as he struggles to stand in place.

Mouth left slightly ajar, all Allen can do is stare, a puppet to Serim's carefully planted strings. Stepping away, Serim has to remember to thank Jungmo for the mistletoe. He hopes Allen won't hate him for this, but he doubts it. With how Allen reacted, it's just more evidence. Waving goodbye from the doorway, "Goodnight Allen. Have a nice night."

Turning to face the cold weather, he faintly hears, "Um, goodnight, Serim." Taking one last look, Serim flashes his charming smile before disappearing into the night. Finally, bringing strawberry gum with him everywhere for the past four months has paid off. It's lame, but Serim still thinks it was worth it.

That night, Allen doesn't fall asleep until the sun rises. 

-

_January_

At this point, Serim is an official member of Allen's friends. Rather than hanging out with his 'friends' in his music classes (that he only hangs out with out of convince), he actually enjoys Taeyoung and Seongmin's antics. Minhee and his smart remarks, who is much too similar to Wonjin that Serim thinks they should meet up. Jungmo's gullibility (and Christmas spirit) he loves, and Hyeongjun's adorable shenanigans. He can't help but coo over how cute they all are. 

Waking up hungover on January 1st, sprawled out on Allen's couch in the same clothes as last night, his bones and muscles are aching. He doesn't remember anything past two am, but that means he does remember the much anticipated countdown to the new year. Only briefly, but he can see glimpses.

Nearing twelve am last night, everyone except Serim and Minhee are piss drunk at the bustling club. They're the designated baby sitters, and Serim is fine with that because it's nice to let go and party, but he also wants to have some ounce of control, his credit card can't handle it. The whole club starts chanting down, ten, nine, eight, seven, six…

Flushed and smiling dumbly, Allen turns to face Serim. He's glowing, dressed in black skinny jeans and a t-shirt, grabby hands coming out to reach him. The lights are flashing in a kaleidoscope of colors, five, four, three…

Grinning back, Serim thinks this isn't a bad way to start the new year. He's sweating from the blazing atmosphere, eyes gleaming in the excitement. Biting his lip, Allen falters and helplessly stares, two, one…

"HAPPY NEW YEARS!" The club patrons cheer and scream, everyone bouncing up and down, pure adrenaline running through the air. Serim can distantly hear Seongmin dolphin screaming, along with Hyeongjun's bubbling laughter. 

He thinks he can see glimpses of Taeyoung behind Allen, but in that moment all he remembers is the feeling of crashing their lips together, like electrons snapping back into orbit. 

Dipping his head down to meet Allen, while the other pulls him close, it's pure electricity crackling between them. It's messy, consisting of pure unadulterated want. Their teeth clash, and in the midst of celebrating the only thing that matters is this kiss. Allen tastes like the fruity drinks he had prior, saccharine sweet and addicting. It's measurably better than under the mistletoe, because he can actually hold onto Allen, grip his copper hair, not like he's holding a delicate doll. It's real and lucid, not getting muddled by feelings like 'love'.

Under the florescent glow, Allen is melting. Beneath Serim, he's putty in his hands, needy and so far gone. 

Eyes half lidded, all he can do is grip tightly onto Serim's leather jacket as he lets the onslaught of emotional high ride through. His lips are bruised, completely flushed and scarlet. They're punch-drunk red like they're caught in a dizzy summer heat warning. Serim wants to frame this moment in a museum and watch it on repeat to feel something human. 

After that, he remembers taking three more shots that burn down his throat. It's time to embrace the moment, riding the emotional high of a warm body in his grasp, not think about the consequences for the next three hours. 

Now, lying in his own grime at Allen and Jungmo's apartment, it turned out better than he ever thought. If he ever thought Allen was homophobic, then this was clear cut proof that he isn’t, and maybe even attracted to guys. It's not a hard stretch to assume he might like, maybe even have a crush, on Serim. It's eerily silent in the apartment, the clock reading 2:13 pm. Allen and Jungmo must be passed out in their rooms. 

Cracking his bones, he makes his way to the kitchen, searching for ready to eat food, like cereal, or even an apple sounds satisfactory. After freshening up, he goes to check on Allen. Cuddled up messily in blankets, Allen looks like a proper wreck, passed out and looking adorable. Tucking him into bed, he hears the sheets rustling as he turns to leave. 

"Serim?" Allen calls out, sleep thick covering his voice, "Is that you?"

"Yeah," Serim bites his tongue. They really should talk about last night, but not when one of them is hungover. "I should go, and you should get some more sleep. I'll text you later."

"No, wait! I'm sober, I swear. I don't remember much at the club, but I remember every other time, and I feel like my chest is gonna burst if I don't tell you. It hurts, please stay." Allen begs, and his face looks so distraught that Serim decides he might as well hear him out. It's quiet for a few seconds as Allen tries to put the words together, as if honey filled the room. 

Serim has an inkling of what Allen could say, but he has to make it work whatever it is, whether it be a confession or a rejection. He hopes it's not the latter. As much as he doesn't like playing with people's hearts, playing with Allen's is surprisingly satisfying. He might like it too much, but that's something to worry about later.

Playing with the hem of blankets, he lets it out in one fell swoop. "I think I might be, no! I'm kinda definitely, maybe, into-uh... guys. Like romantically. Like I wanna kiss them. I'm gay, or bi, or whatever but I think I like guys."

It's more of a confirmation than a surprise, but it still takes Serim a second to respond. Amicably sitting down next to the boy, Allen's eyes are downcast, he can practically sense his anxiety. "That's, good to know. Thanks for telling me, you know it's okay, I would never think differently of you. I mean, I like guys too, so."

Allen has an embarrassing smile, "I know, and what's worse is that it took me so long to admit it to myself. I kept thinking that maybe it's a one off. That I was tired or drunk, so it didn't count," scoffing, he has a self-deprecating look, "but deep down I always knew. My family is against it though, and even if I'm not living with them anymore, it still affects me, you know?" 

Serim isn't a serial killer, he knows Allen is spilling his heart out to him, and more strings are becoming attached. It's hard not to when you're faced with someone as enamoring as the younger. It's like asking the sun and the stars to stop shining, or the ocean to stay completely still.

In a more sweet than bitter smile, Allen mutters, "And, and I guess the reason I'm telling you this is because…" 

There's a pause before Allen can back out, all the air in the room suspended on a tightrope, "…I think-uh, I like you."

A genuine smile overtakes Serim before he can even think about it. Rushing over to Allen, still on the bed, he breaths in the lingering sweet alcohol, copper hair tickling his cheek. Holding him tightly, it feels like this moment could be encased in a snow globe. With the sun beams coming in from the broken window and Allen's small laugh, something beautiful blooms in Serim's chest. 

"Finally! How long did it take you to admit it? I don't just go around kissing straight guys. I kiss guys I like," Serim confesses, and it's partly true, "and I like you, Allen."

Hands entwining, Allen hides his face into the juncture of Serim's shoulder. Face hot, he can't help but relax and let pure joy run through his body. The universe is being far too kind to him, there must be some sort of scheme behind it all. 

"You're not joking, right? This isn't just in my head? Don't lie to me," Allen warns, hoping his concerns are as nonexistent as a diatomic helium molecule.

Chuckling, Serim just holds his hand a little tighter, "Yes I'm being serious. I've liked you since we watched The Shining," That's a lie, "I thought I was being too forward, but you never did say 'no'." 

"Maybe because I kinda, sort of, like you? Did you ever think that was a reason?" Allen retorts back.

"Sorry, I didn't hear what you said. Can you repeat that again?" Teasingly hitting Serim's shoulder, Allen pouts. "Fine, yes, I like you too. As in I want to kiss you, kinda like."

Still ever so shy, Allen waits for Serim to make the first move. In a grin, Serim moves closer, hesitating for a second to let the boy decline, but instead Allen meets him halfway. Lips on lips, it's soft and gentle. Allen unsure of his actions, and Serim gently guiding him, hand coming up to cradle his head. It's scarily intimate, but it feels so right that they both don't want to look away.

Breaking apart to catch their breaths, Allen has a cheeky smile, "Happy new year, Serim."

-

Aside from the usual texts with Wonjin, Serim seems to be on track like every other job. With the budding romance, Allen seems to let a lot more slip out. Just like Rihanna says, it must be love on the brain.

On one of their movie dates, while the previews are running about the newest spy movie, Allen mentions that their department has found the main culprit of the Monopoly scheme. Straining to hear and remember every word falling out of Allen's mouth, Serim is on full alert, a prickly sensation in his chest.

"I can't tell you his name, but he's part of one of the original five families." Serim tilts his head, "Basically the organized crime in Vancouver is controlled by five main families of the Italian Mafia. We don't know how he's doing it, but he have evidence and confessionals. He might be working with people, but it doesn't look like it. It just looks like dispersing." 

"When do you think you'll be able to catch him?" Serim asks. That's a normal question boyfriends ask, right?

"Honestly, as soon as we know the location of every offender, it'll be soon. Probably in the next couple of months, but we're still listening into their phone calls to see if anyone else is involved." Allen informs, completely gullible. Serim wants to ask if he can say all of this, because he read online somewhere that FBI agents must sign a secrecy agreement, but maybe Allen isn't up to that status yet? Better not ask too many questions.

The movie starts and before Serim can even think about it, Allen is lacing their hands together, looking straight ahead. Rolling his eyes, Serim gives a warm grip back. Time to watch a compelling narrative with a happy ending where everything gets tied up neatly with a bow. If he thinks too hard about how they got into this situation, his chest starts aching. If only he were a character in a movie.

Another time, while they're eating out at a Korean barbeque restaurant, Allen off handedly mentions how they have to contact and sync up with other departments. It's a busy restaurant with conversations bustling at 100 km/h at every table so Allen doesn't seem fazed by people eavesdropping, but he's so sadly mistaken with his concerns. 

"You know, this is kind of on a wide scale. I mean, this is like out of an action flick, a once in a lifetime case as said by some of my older coworkers." Remarks Allen, looking a little proud. "I don't know, sometimes I just can't believe this is what I get to do. This might be the highlight of my career."

Egging him on, Serim prods, "How so? I'm sure there's cases like these all the time, maybe just a little bit on the downlow, though."

"Going undercover is a serious thing. You have to do a bunch of paperwork and everything. To finish this case, we have to contact other departments around Canada for the sting. Cause, you know, we gotta catch everyone at once," Allen gives him a look, and then resumes cooking the LA galbi. "So they don't run away and tell the others." 

Sometimes if he doesn't think about his own job, the dread of ending things blends into the background. He might as well prolong the regret and pain he'll undoubtedly have when it's time. It's like he can see himself falling deeper but can't do anything to stop, his warnings fall flat. 

He hopes the sting takes place soon. If he just focuses on Allen, smiling and laughing, it feels like everything will be okay in the world. 

-

"Help! Someone help me! I'm gonna die!" Hyeongjun whines, knees weak in a pair of public skates. He's not even on the ice yet, just nearing the edge of the rink.

Serim, Allen, Jungmo, Minhee, and Hyeongjun are at an outdoors public ice rink, slowly managing to get onto the ice. Serim, a seasoned skater, pitched the idea last week to groans and mostly cheers of excitement. Seongmin and Taeyoung had a university thing, so out of the five only Serim and Jungmo know how to skate, but the others were eager to learn. Looking back, Serim thinks that might've had their heads in the clouds.

Chuckling, Serim swoops by gracefully and steadies him, "Stop whining! You'll be fine, just hold onto me and we can get you one of those skating trainers. You're not even touching the ice!"

"That looks like a walker for old people," Hyeongjun pouts, catching sight of a child pushing a plastic device as they skate, "I thought skating was easy, like rollerblading or something. You lied to me! I can barely stand up!" 

"It's a lot easier with the trainer, trust me. For now, just hold onto me or Jungmo or the sideboards, and try to bend your knees to balance." Serim teaches, letting Hyeongjun slide a couple inches on the ice, holding onto the sideboard with a death grip through his mittens. Behind him, he hears, "Um, Serim? A little help?"

While Jungmo's helping Minhee tie his laces, Allen stands like an awkward duckling on the side, "Can I have some help? I'm pretty sure the second I'm on the ice I'll fall on my butt."

"Well, better your butt then your arm or leg. I'm not gonna be responsible for any broken bones today." Linking arms with Allen, he brings him onto the ice. Eyebrows downturned, Allen manages to half skate half walk a couple of feet, "Hey, this isn't too hard. I'm actually moving!"

"That's because you're holding onto me," Serim grins, skating away, "Just wait, I gotta get Hyeongjun a trainer. Try not to fall while I'm gone!"

"Don't worry, I won't-Woah, woah-AHH!" Yelps Allen, falling backwards after losing balance. Laughing his head off, Hyeongjun accidently lets go of the sideboard in the process, flailing his arms until he falls too. "Ow, that hurts."

Allen's now laughing at Hyeongjun, "That's karma for laughing at me. Serves you right." 

"Worth it," Hyeongjun says as Serim's skates appear in their line of vision. Both still sitting on the ice, Serim chastises, "I leave for less than a minute and you guys already fell? Come on, get up and dust the snow off your butts."

Giving the plastic red trainer, "Hyeongjun, this will make skating a lot easier. Hold onto the bar and try pushing against. It's kind of like how old people use a walker to walk." Allen laughs at that last bit.

Reluctantly, Hyeongjun sticks his tongue out and takes the plastic and to his amazement he immediately stabilizes. Skating a couple of feet, he exclaims like a child who just discovered mobile games, "Wow! This is so easy! I'll be a pro by the time we're done. Serim, you better watch out, I'll be skating circles around you in no time," Hyeongjun skates away at record speed, giggling to himself, joining the throng of other people skating in the afternoon sun.

"Guess it's just you and me?" Serim grins, taking Allen's arm and holding him up. Skating measly, they manage to have a somewhat slow to medium speed. Behind them Jungmo and Minhee are mirroring them. Serim can hear Minhee grumbling about how Jungmo isn't helping him, only to be left alone as Jungmo easily does tricks and spins right next to him. It's fun seeing Minhee so helpless, the brainiac at a loss. 

"When do you think we should tell them?" Allen whispers, already close to Serim as they huddled by the side, skates gliding and skates stomping. They're so close they could kiss and none of their friends would notice. Since New Year's Eve, they haven't told anyone that they're officially dating. It's not a huge deal because Allen isn't a huge fan of PDA, much to Serim's dismay, and they're still getting used to the changing dynamic, but it'll have to happen one day. 

"Up to you, they're your friends," Serim teases.

"They're you're friends too, and you know it." Allen gives him a pointed look," I wanna tell them, but I just don't know when the best moment is to do it. I was thinking today but Seongmin and Taeyoung aren't here. They're gonna throw a riot if they hear about it from Hyeongjun of all people. They'll never forgive me."

"I would too, Hyeongjun is denser than a brick, but that's what makes him so cute. We should just tell Jungmo and wait until he spills the secret to everyone. It probably wouldn't last a week."

"I mean, how have they not noticed? We're not kissing or anything, but Jungmo was actually teasing me about you for the longest time. I guess they just think were good hetero normative male friends." Allen jokes, "As far as they know, I'm still straight."

"Totally bro. We should hit up the strip clubs and get hard over some sexy cisgender female strippers with large breasts." Serim mocks in his best heterosexual voice. "I'm pretty sure they already know though. Especially with Minhee. I feel like he knows too much, his eyes hold too much knowledge." 

Allen is getting the hang of skating, although his feet are already starting to ache, he choruses, "I'm convinced him and Jungmo already know! They're not that dense. I can see the other three missing it, but Minhee? No way, he would definitely tell Jungmo, and then they would conspire about it." 

"Sounds plausible. When do you think they'll figure out they have a thing for each other? Jungmo is so obvious." Serim remarks. He noticed it by the third time he hung out with them. He can hear them bickering about how to skate correctly.

"Wait, you noticed too? I had my suspicions but obviously Hyeongjun had no clue about what I was talking about. What gave it away? I once saw Jungmo wearing one of Minhee's sweaters, and when I noticed he turned red." Allen snickers.

"Really? For me, Jungmo smiles wider at Minhee than anyone else. His eyes crinkle a bit more." One time while they were playing a board game, Jungmo would just laugh at whatever Minhee said, giving his full attention. Like a well-groomed dog, Jungmo was incessant and Serim would've had to be blind and deaf to not have noticed.

"What about us? What would give us away?" Allen asks, head tilting.

"The fact that you blush every five seconds I'm near you, is a pretty dead giveaway." 

Offended, Allen scoffs, "I do not do that." and Serim finds it extra cute when he tries to act mad.

"Uh yes, you do. Like this," and Serim proceeds to stare at Allen with the utmost adoration and bedroom eyes combined. Allen stumbles a bit while skating, gripping harder onto Serim's jacket, ears turning red.

"You're blushing, your ears are red. Point proven."

"Well then don't look at me like that," Whines Allen.

"Like what? How do I look at you, Allen? I would love to hear from an outside perspective, I'm quite intrigued."

Sticking his nose up, Allen says matter of factly, "You look at me like, like I'm your, boyfriend" he falters at the end, stumbling over the word boyfriend.

"I sure hope I do, I mean since we are dating and all. We're boyfriends, right? Or have I been imagining this the whole time?" Serim theorizes, scratching his head.

Allen pouts back in response, cheeks now turning red, "Yes, we're dating, and you're my boyfriend." Huddling even closer, Allen hides his blush under his toque, their skates hitting the ice in tandem. He wants to kiss him. It's days like these that Serim falls deeper, blindly past rock bottom.

Hyeongjun comes crashing into the pair like a comet, shouting "Allen! Serim! I don't know how to stop but I love skating! We should come back tomorrow with Seongmin and Taeyoung! Skating is so much fun with this thing!" 

A couple feet away Minhee grumbles, "Hyeongjun! Let me use that plastic thing, I can barely move without falling. Jungmo is of no help." 

"Nope, no can do! Sorry Minhee, but I'm training right now. Maybe Jungmo can get you one." bites back Hyeongjun, skating away with ease, with the obvious help of the trainer. Serim is kind of impressed. 

After an hour of skating and attempted skating filled with laughter, the group is settled at a nearby cozy café, mugs of steaming drinks on the table. Pulling Jungmo to the side, Serim whispers, "Thanks for putting up the mistletoe at the apartment."

"Oh, you noticed? Thanks, I stole it from the university, It's so cliché but a tradition at my house, so I obviously have to keep it up at the apartment" Jungmo says, and then he gives Serim a confused look, "Wait, unless you're really into Christmas decorations, why are you thanking me?"

Serim winks slyly, "You'll find out soon." 

-

They tell the group a week later at a small get together. Allen made the right choice of doing it at the apartment.

"I KNEW IT!" Jungmo and Minhee roar at the same time Hyeongjun and Taeyoung go into a state of shock, mouths hanging open catching flies, eyes as huge as marbles. Seongmin is dolphin screaming and harassing Allen about when it started, yelling 'You're into guys?' and 'Congratulations!'

"I knew there was something between you the two the second I met you at the Halloween party. There's no way Allen could've brought home a guy as hot as Serim on a whim. There were ulterior motives!" Minhee accuses, and Allen sputters out defenses. There's yelling and hugging and threats to Serim that he better treat Allen well or else, which is terribly ironic.

Seongmin, Taeyoung, and Hyeongjun tackle him after interrogating Allen. It's a mix of 'Pink orchids are Allen's favorite flower' and 'If you don’t treat him right I will kill you in your sleep and then kill your family' and 'We're glad it's you, Allen deserves it.' That last one hurts more than Serim would like to admit, but he pushes it back where he won't think about it until he's in bed, like he's done so many times.

In the midst of chaos, Jungmo gives Serim a wink from across the room, mouthing, 'You're welcome.' 

-

_February_

"When we kissed under the mistletoe, you kinda tasted like strawberry gum," Allen mentions while they're on a date. A real, romantic date, with cringy pickup lines and offerings to pay for expenses, although they've already been doing the last one. Smiling shyly, he eats some more of the strawberry shortcake.

They're at a dessert house, because he might as well support local business instead of greedy corporations. Situated in the corner of a restaurant that good reviews on Yelp, he bought the strawberry shortcake to share. He might as well treat himself by getting his favorite flavor if it's this expensive, and Allen doesn't seem to be complaining. It's not like he can ask Wonjin if he knows any good date options. 

Before this, they spent the afternoon at the beach with the other boys, then Serim stole Allen for the night. It is a special occasion after all, that happens every February with lots of pink and red and chocolates.

"Oh, well that's my favorite flavor of gum. It was romantic, wasn't it? Our first kiss under the mistletoe. At least I didn't have bad breath." Serim teases, though he already knows the answer. He knew carrying all that strawberry gum would eventually pay off. 

Chuckling, Allen responds, "Thank goodness, and I guess it is a bit romantic. On a scale of one to ten for first kisses, it would be a nine." Serim acts as if he was wounded. "It was an eight, but because strawberry's my favorite flavor too, I bumped it up one."

"I can't believe it wasn't a ten. I mean, how more perfect can it get? The iconic mistletoe, my breath smelled amazing, and I'm a pretty great kisser if I do say so myself," Serim brags, his frat boy days are long gone, "I regret setting up this date if this is how you're gonna judge."

Allen laughs, "No, no! The um, date is great," he says 'date' under his breath, uncomfortable of the innocent gazes of others. "Thank you for taking the time to plan it all out. I used to think Valentine's day was just another holiday for companies to milk consumers of their money, but now I can see the appeal." 

He has a small, but gracious smile, eating more of the strawberry shortcake. Serim takes a bite too, it's a bit of a stretch to say it was worth his money, but at least it tastes better than anything store bought. Slowly but surely, Allen is getting better with the PDA, especially since it's just the two of them, it's pretty easy to put two and two together.

"Yeah, I was pretty anti-Valentines, since none of my relationships lasted long." That's funny, 'relationships', he hasn't had a real one since high school. "But I decided to indulge this year. You can pay me back next time, although they do say that love is priceless, so I'm sure you'll find a way." Serim winks.

They haven't actually said, 'I love you.' It's a sensitive topic, with Allen's new found sexuality and being comfortable with actually living it out. For now, it's fine. It's the honeymoon stage, although even Serim can feel himself looking forward to seeing Allen, to make him happy. He knows the feeling of excitement when hanging out with friends, and it's worryingly different. 

Allen's ears turn a bit red. It seems even after dating, Allen still, if not more, blushes at every potential romantic action or word. "Uh, yeah, totally," And then he kinda freezes. 

"Come on, I have one more surprise left. Finish the cake and I'll show you." Serim winks. Allen instead pouts, "I basically ate all of it, you should have it the rest."

"I think the cutest boy in the world should get the rest."

Sputtering, Allen flushes to his cheeks, "You-you should get the cake."

"Does that mean you think I'm the cutest boy in the world? I usually think of myself as sexy or handsome, but I guess this works too." 

"Just eat the rest of the cake! You paid for it," Whines Allen, giving him puppy dog eyes, and who is Serim to resist? Making pointed eye contact, he slowly brings the last bit of cake to his mouth, licking it alluringly.

Allen looks like he saw a ghost, and then in some corny love movie Serim saw, he takes one of the menus, leans over the table covering both their faces in the middle, and kisses Allen on the lips. It's chaste, but gets the point across. "Thank you for the cake."

His heart is racing, a smirk on his face as Allen stares mouth hanging. He didn't know he would be so confident in public, but he likes the action. Paying the bill, he takes Allen until they're outside when he scolded. "How could you do that? Didn't people see? That was so corny! It's like out of a preteen romcom movie!"

"Don't worry, no one saw, Allen dear. We were sitting the corner and none of the waiters were around, so stop worrying. Besides, I know you liked it too." Serim grins, the flush pretty on Allen as he retorts, "I'd like it more if we were alone." 

"Hmm, sure you would. Should we make that happen then?" Linking hands in the crisp cold, their mittens lay unused in their coats, forgotten. They pass by a local flower shop and a lightbulb goes off. Ushering Allen to wait a couple of minutes, Serim quickly buys a small bouquet of pink orchids. They bicker all the way back to the apartment, Allen matching the same shade of the orchids.

All in all, Serim is starting to see why people like Valentine's day so much. It's starting to grow on him. 

-

The cold weather is still as annoying as ever (his wet sneakers account for that), but at least it makes for a scenic view. It should be warming up by now, groundhogs day and all that, but the weather app says it's a rare long winter. 

As Serim looks out the gas station windows, the entire block is covered in a thin blanket of snow, with shimmering snowflakes decorating the sky. Right on time and seemingly appearing thinly out of the night, two figures walk into the store, bundled up and cozy. 

"Why did you bring Woobin?," Serim asks when then he sees a brunette figure trail behind Wonjin. Then, he laughs, "Why do you guys have Macdonald's? Got hungry on the way over?"

In Woobin's hands there's the iconic MacDonald's bag, oil stains already appearing at the bottom. It's comical, really, with what they're gonna discuss. "I can hear you, and late night cravings is why," is Woobin's response, as he stuffs some limp fries down. 

"I brought Woobin because the people at the top are nervous," Wonjin rebuts, and the message is loud and clear: they don't wanna go to jail. Or rather, pay money.

"Yeah, I did say this was important," Serim chuckles. Woobin is friends with Wonjin, but he has nasty rumors around the university. Serim couldn't care less, but Wonjin tells him he's on a higher rung than him. He's a decent enough guy, at least to Serim.

"So, what's it this time?" Wonjin asks good naturedly, but the fact that Woobin is with him is a bit off-putting. 

"They're planning a sting in the next couple of months. Allen says they already know it's the 'mafia', and they found the main culprit. The only thing they don't really know is how he got the tickets," Reports Serim, and the two of them are quiet, thinking. Woobin even stopped eating his fries. 

"Who's their main culprit?" Woobin questions.

"I don't know. Allen won't tell me, he says it's 'confidential information'." Wonjin and Woobin exchange a look, nod, and then look back to Serim to continue. 

"They're looking into his residences and they're also arresting the past million dollar winners, including anyone who sold or gave the tickets away," Serim finishes, and he feels a bit dizzy. "Oh, and they've already contacted other agencies and departments around the country, so yeah. They're in the planning phase."

"That it?" Wonjin asks, while eating a Scor Mcflurry, and now Serim is craving ice cream. 

"Yep," Serim responds, trying to fake calmness since it's payday, but he feels sick to his stomach. The scene in front of him is so normal, but it's like he's taken off the rose colored lenses. 

"Alright, well that's good to know. Pleasure doing business with you," Wonjin sneers. Woobin just rolls his eyes and takes out the coveted envelope and puts it on top the cash register.

Pulling Serim to the side, Wonjin whispers, "Text me the date when you get it," and he doesn't make it sound demanding but he knows if he doesn't do that, then there'll be questions. 

"See you in class!" Wonjin says at a normal volume, and Woobin just wave a hand while they're strolling out the door, snow falling in time with them. 

The envelope looks so pristine, but all Serim can think of is the guilt that's drowning him. Holding the money feels wrong, immoral, like if he crushes the paper too hard he'll break Allen's heart.

He should be desensitized, but he crumbles at the sight of Allen and his naivetes'. It hurts. It disgusts him, as he pockets the money and wipes the store video cameras. Thinking about it too hard leads him in a downward spiral, so reasonably all Serim can do is take a nap to escape the dread. If he never acknowledges it, he has nothing to overthink. What a philosophy, maybe he should change majors. 

This is a job, and the crumpled bills weighing in his pocket make that clear. The only other thing he knows for certain, is that he wants to be with Allen. How to do that, is another complication he doesn't wanna think about.

Paying for some vanilla ice cream with his newly hard earned money, when it hits his tongue it doesn't taste sweet as he remembers. Forcing it down, he's craving the flavor of strawberries. His hands itch for something to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> side note - all the macdonalds mafia stuff I got from a documentary called McMillions where it details the actual event of the italian mafia stealing the winning tickets and giving them away for money (or something like that it's a little bit more complicated lmao) basically they made money out of it. I know that the mafia in Vancouver is a stretch but just ignore it, for all we know there could be a mafia in Canada. 
> 
> Comments are VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!! Please leave comments they make me so happy, it can be anything to 'i like your writing' or 'this could use work' or even 'that one line in _____ was super cool.'
> 
> Thanks you for reading!! <33


	3. Now I'm Afraid of the Deepening Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chap title from the song Sober by Hyoyeon. I basically listened to this while writing a specific scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the sweet comments!! They really make my day (and inflate my already large ego) but I'm so happy you guys are enjoying the story :))
> 
> This chap is a bit emotionally heavy (wink wink) but it has to happen. It's a bit shorter than the other chapters, it's around 5k but I think it has the most plot and importance. It took me so long to get to this point, with all the buildup of Allen's character and matching the timing and everything, but I'm super proud of this. Happy reading :)

_March_

Serim is regretting this job.

They're at Allen's apartment, lips on lips. They were watching some documentary on an illegal streaming website (Serim teased, "How could an FBI employee do this? You're breaking the law! I could report you for this,") on Allen's laptop, but it might as well be off. With all the lights off already in Allen's bed together, the mood is too good to waste.

Kissing Allen is like leaving his crappy life and spending a few minutes in heaven. It burns wonderfully, and when Allen flushes like it's a hot summer day, Serim can't help but get lost in the feeling. It's far too intimate, they're barely using tongue. Allen is responding feverishly, his hands coming up grip Serim's ratty sweater and pulling for more. In his haze, he has to remind himself dumbly that sex is a good way to connect with a people. He should've done this sooner. 

They pull away to catch their breaths, and Serim is anything if not a gentlemen, "Do you want this?"

Eyes widening, Allen seems to just now understand the gravity of the situation. He looks so vulnerable, like he awoke from a nightmare. Stripped away of his serious layers of work, he's eyeing Serim's sweater he's holding, his ears turning scarlet. Serim can physically see him trying to think clearly, and so he puts some more space between them. Hands outstretched, Allen looks like he just got reprimanded for stealing candy from a gas station. His voice comes out small and nervous.

"Um, I just, you know, uh, ne-never had…with a guy," And Allen looks like he wants to crawl into a hole and die.

There goes Serim's steel heart. A foul feeling is slowly replacing the burning passion. Taking Allen's virginity is far too intimate for someone like him, but he is the boyfriend, isn't he? In all his prospects he's never had to take anyone's virginity, and now the money is so filthy he can't ignore it anymore. He's not a stickler to the rules, but even he knows there's something twisted about it, the way his chest clenches with thorns.

"Allen, it's fine. Stop worrying, it's okay," reassures Serim, trying his best to sweeten his voice, and reassure himself. Allen only meekly makes eye contact underneath his lashes.

"Allen, listen to me. If you're not comfortable right now, than that's fine. There's no pressure, it's all up to you. I promise I won't be disappointed." There's no acting now, not like Serim was acting when he was around Allen. It's different, though. The romance is cloying with him, and it wasn't supposed to. 

Allen grips his sweater a little tighter, and a couple seconds later he innocently confesses, "I want _you_."

And Serim knows there's a special place in Hell for him. 

Pulling him into a kiss, Allen melts against the worn-out sheets. Slowly taking off his sweater, then Allen's hoodie and shirt, Serim is praying to every deity that he doesn't screw this up. His kisses are real, he doesn't have to try in that aspect, filled with earnest, as he whispers into Allen's ear, "I'll take care of you."

He has to play a lover now, and it kills him that he doesn’t need to pretend how much he loves this. 

-

The morning after, his chest is burning in place of his heart. The guilt is overwhelming. 

He should be numb from this feeling already, but it just piles on top of each other. Grimacing, the sunlight is shining onto the messy bed right into his eyes. Between the old sheets, Serim is sleeping with a content Allen, and the clock reads 9 am. Through the broken window, he can see fresh snow falling, piling on the rooftops and making the city white.

There's no reason to feel this horrible, because the world takes and takes and this is just another example in his life. He's taking Allen's heart and the world is taking his morals. It's eating him up, his chest aching just to breathe. He feels like a hypocrite because he can feel himself bordering on love. This is what happens when you play with people's hearts, huh?

Laughing to himself, a sick smile replaces his grimace. Here he is, actually having feelings for a temporary target. He's going to have to break up with Allen once this is all over, since telling him the truth is way out of the loop. Allen wouldn't want him anyway, if he knew. Either way, he loses the guy. At least the first way, he'll still have Allen's respect.

It's okay, though. The sooner it's over, the sooner the pain in his chest can melt away. It's already been seven months, one of the longest jobs he's had. Cutting off all the strings might take a while.

Allen's phone rings on the tiny nightstand, and Serim feigns sleep as the other boy is gently woken up. He turns slightly pink at the position he finds himself in, bites back a smile, and struggles to end the noise.

"Um, hello?" Murmurs Allen, his voice thick with sleep as he rubs his eyes with his other hand. Serim can't hear what the other party says, but out of the corner of his eye he notices Allen straighten up right away as the person keeps talking. 

"That's amazing! I can't wait to head back to work on Monday," Proclaims Allen, energy thrumming through his voice, and then a couple seconds later the phone call ends. Letting out a pleased sigh, Allen ditches his phone and cautiously turns to face the still sleeping boy. 

Serim can only hear the sheets being shuffled around, and then a warm weight on his chest. His heart withers, and the pain in his chest is as if he was struck with a sword. Glancing at the shelf behind Allen, he can see the pink orchids wilting in a glass vase.

-

It happens when Allen goes to the bathroom. 

Inconspicuously, Serim snatches Allen's phone off the couch and enters the password (it's his birthday) before looking for his calendar. Swiping to April, amidst all the color coded events, there's a yellow bolded reminder on Wednesday, the 13th. Well, the 13th is terrifying in a whole different light. April 13th it is.

_!Operation Final Answer!April_

Kissing Allen makes everything right. 

It makes lying to the mafia morally right, it makes him think, 'I wish this would last forever' and the plan of breaking up vanishes into thin air like a magic trick, not leaving a trace. When he's with Allen, his cynical thoughts don't take up his head space. Instead, he's just content. For a brief moment in time, he feels like there's good in the world, and that he's a part of that. Other than that, his nights are filled with terrible dreams of Allen when he manages to get some sleep. 

They're at the public library this time, hidden by the monotone shelves. Allen, who is honestly too good for this cruel society, is searching for old crime history works. Focused on finding this one case involving a high school swimmer, Serim looks around before gently tilts his head and kisses him. It's soft and intimate and Serim can't help himself. 

Flushing, Allen squeaks out, "What if people see?"

"Don't worry, there's no one here. I checked." Serim says, smiling bittersweet as Allen looks around cautiously before relaxing. 

He's never been a huge fan of PDA, but with time running out he can't seem to care. Maybe he likes it more than he'll admit. He's gonna miss this. It tugs at his heart strings every time he thinks about it, especially since Allen is just warming up to it. On walks and with their friends, they'll quietly hold hands, and maybe, if he's feeling daring he'll kiss Allen when no one is looking. Allen never tells him to stop, so there's no reason to.

The younger gives him a funny look, before giving Serim an easy peck and refocusing at the task at hand. As Allen keeps looking, Serim's skimming the books on the opposite shelf. There are titles like, 'The Book of Awesome', and some other self-help books. There's marriage counselling, dealing with parenthood, and confrontation. There's a nagging in his head, and he takes out one about confrontation. It's free, might as well.

Since taking this job, Serim wants nothing more than to quit so. That's not possible though, he knows how life works, so after all of this is over, he decided to officially take a break from Wonjin and his offerings. The only problem is he hasn't actually told Wonjin this, and he really doesn't want to. 

Their relationship has been purely benefits. Serim gets cash he should've gotten from his parents to survive in Vancouver, and Wonjin gets to largen in social circle while pleasing the higher ups. It’s a win-win, and they're what you could call best friends. Serim doesn’t necessarily have a lot of those, not lasting ones anyway, so he would rather not lose any. He doesn’t want a hit on his back, though.

It's not like he can google, 'How to tell my friend/co-worker that I want to stop working for him/the mafia?' It's not like he can even do it through text either. All business is strictly in person (except for that 'date'), but he decides to quit after the sting, whether it's successful or not. 

"Got it!" Allen exclaims, too loud for the library but luckily no one shushes them. Clutching the dusty files, he looks at Serim. "Ready to go?" 

"Yep," Serim says, shoving the book back. If it's in the wrong place, then that's just a problem for someone else. 

They walk out, hand in hand, heart in heart. "Say you'll never let me go, okay?" Allen teases, as he squeezes Serim's hand, the lyrics in the song matching up. He really is warming up to PDA. Serim's chest seizes. 

"I would never," and there's another lie. Although for what it's worth, he wishes it were true. 

-

April 13th comes far too fast, to Serim's dismay. 

It’s the afternoon, but he knows the takedown is happening as he sees the clock's ticking hands on the library wall. He's with Wonjin again, copying his assignment while the other boy does the same with his other assignment. 

Hanging out with Wonjin is no longer a comfort when all he can think about is breaking Allen's heart. Well, he also chose to be an informant for the mafia, so that's on him, but if he thinks about it really hard, in a twisted way the heartbreak is warranted by the fact that he lied to the Wonjin, and therefore lied to the mafia. 

He can only hope Wonjin is a decent enough guy. Lot's of things go wrong in organized crime, right? He wouldn't know. In this moment of time, the FBI have most likely already arrested most of the previous winners and the main pinhead that Wonjin and Woobin shared a look about. Refreshing the Huffington Post, Serim's expecting news articles to be jumping on the story and milking every detail out of the FBI. 

Yesterday, Allen told him he was gonna be busy today with no particular reason why. Serim, mustering up his every ounce of his acting skills, tries his hardest not to sound too dismissive or interested, and conjures up his best nonchalant response. Allen doesn't say anything that would raise suspicion, so now here he is, waiting for the news to break. Every night this week he's had dreams of Allen leaving him, hating him for all the lies. Last night he only got three hours of sleep, and he went to sleep at 11pm.

The younger will probably text him, 'we did it!!' late into the night, once all the business is finished. 

Serim feels a nudge on his shoulder, knocking him back to his surroundings, eyes widening. He takes off his headphones to face Wonjin, who's asking a question about one of the melodies. "Shouldn't it be B flat? Everywhere else you added a flat." 

"Yeah, I guess I forgot. I'll change it now." and Wonjin doesn't try to bother him anymore as they work in silence. He's trying his best to act natural, but it doesn't seem to work as he can feel Wonjin staring. His acting's been off ever since he met Allen. That's the only explanation.

A couple hours later, just when he thinks Wonjin isn't on his case, he sees a trending article. 

_'THE MACDONALDS MONOPOLY GAME IS A FRAUD!'  
'An FBI investigation leads to the arrest of 13 people'_

Maybe his face gave it away, or maybe it was Wonjin finding out that the pinhead was arrested by media outlets, but they only talk about it when they get dinner at an empty sandwich shop. 

They're both seated at a table with their food as muted radio music plays throughout the establishment. It's hauntingly quiet when Serim breaks the tension. Quite unlike himself, his voice wavers as he mumbles, "They must've changed the date."

Wonjin just laughs at his attempt of explaining. His eyes look all-knowing and Serim can feel himself entering the twilight zone. "The higherups already knew the date wasn't accurate. The FBI are always switching things up, and other departments had to coordinate too, so I'm not surprised. What is surprising, however, is your choice of words."

Serim shows visible confusion. "Then why did you ask me to send you the date?"

"That, was my own doing," Wonjin confesses, smirking, and only then does Serim realize what a fool he is. 

Never has Wonjin once interfered in a job like that. The cogs are slowly turning, why would Wonjin even do this? What was the purpose? Was it to test Serim? Even though he's been on the mafia's payroll for years now, but if it was only for Wonjin that means…

Interrupting Serim's internal monologue, Wonjin's teasing voice hits, "The higherups just wanted to know how far along the whole thing was. All I told them was that it was most likely going to happen in April, and that's all they needed to know."

Serim has an epiphany at a sandwich shop. He wants to cry in relief and punch Wonjin in the face at the same time. Screw Wonjin and his extra corners and steps. 

So after all this time, the mafia isn't going to hunt him down. His chest is suddenly a little lighter. He was ready to be blacklisted by the mafia, ready to never talk to Wonjin again, although that one might still be true. Only Wonjin knows he lied about the date, regardless of whatever explanation he got. He gave himself away the second he spoke, all the nerves and unnecessary guilt. What Serim doesn't understand is why Wonjin would do that, though. 

Wonjin still looks a bit apprehensive after he reveals the current situation, but he doesn't look upset in any matter. He doesn't look like someone who just lost a 24-million dollar scheme. Confused, Serim asks, "Didn’t they get arrested? Aren't you worried about that? Won't your bosses be in prison?" 

"Honestly, no. I don't even know how the whole scheme works, only the pinhead does, and it's better that way. It's just an income source for distribution, so there'll be many more to come. We have others, anyway, but it's just a small loss." Wonjin says as he smiles mischievously. 

"Besides," he continues, "I'm pretty sure the FBI were tracking their location way before April, and they should've been better prepared if they didn't want jail time. Actually, white-collar crime gets notoriously low prison time, so they'll be back soon. Probably in a year or less. Nothing you need to understand, though."

Serim's head is spinning at what he's hearing. The thing he doesn't really understand is why Wonjin is still sitting here with him, a liar. A liar in all aspects, now. He lied about the date and Wonjin knows, yet he's still amicably. "Uh, okay, I guess. I have one more question though."

Wonjin nods after a second. "Ask away."

"Why did-" and then he bites his tongue and thinks about it a little deeper, and instead mutters, "Never mind. So we're good?"

Wonjin smirks, "Why wouldn't we be good?" he questions in a playful tone, but his eyes are all-knowing again, and then he lets out a genuine laugh. His whole façade vanishes before Serim, and warmly he says, "Serim, I really got you worried there, didn’t I?

Rolling his eyes, he defiantly spits out, "I don't know what you're talking about," and at Wonjin's look of 'really?' he caves, "Fine. Yes, you got me. Happy now?"

"Yes, and we're good, so stop worrying. You're secret's safe with me." Wonjin reveals with genuine kindness, is what Serim wants to believe, biting his tongue before he replies with a snarky comment. If Wonjin suspects (aka knows) he lied about the date, he doesn't hear back from him about the subject. 

This couldn't have turned out better, he didn't want to lose his only friend. Jungmo and them all don't count because they won't make it past May.

-

Later that night, he gets a text. It's vague but Serim knows immediately what he means. He feigns confusion.

'we did it!! :D'

Oh, he forgot about the emoticon. One exclamation marks must've not been enough to express all his joy. Bittersweet seems to be the only constant this year.

-

_May_

If he's been distant, Allen doesn't comment or mention it. 

Serim wants to be present. He wants to love and be loved, but it's just a downward spiral of, 'this might be the last time,' and 'how can I forget this?' Even Wonjin can tell he's a little low when he notices all his music being slow and sad songs with titles like 'The kids are depressed' and 'let me down slowly'. 

Allen and Serim are like drifting boats in the vast sea, crossing for what feels like years. It's like they're being suspended, only held together by a couple of loose threads. It's easier this way if Allen were the one to initiate a break up, since he wouldn't have to do any heart breaking but it's gone on too long. As Allen smiles sweetly at him for no obvious reason he knows of or deserves, he knows it's time.

It happens when they're watching a trashy rom-com at Allen's apartment. It's easier this way, because Serim can just walk out and never turn back. Forgetting the address and phone number might be a little harder, but that's what the 'delete' option is for. Time will have to do the rest. He wants it to all be over. The lies, the coverups, and the pressure on his chest. 

He selfishly wanted to do it on aim, but he's not that big of a jerk, so he instead settles for a quick escape. Looking with a soft focus on the screen while his heart is pounding, he ends what he never should've started. It’s not like he knew he would fall this deep. 

Too many nights spent awake, clutching his chest, Serim needs to end the collateral damage. 

"Allen."

"Hmm?" Allen hums back, still watching the movie.

"I think we should break up."

The room fills with ice as Allen stiffens next to him. Serim doesn’t dare look at him. He knows it'll break him, it'll only make the guilt worse. Trudging forward, he no longer lies. That's the best he can do. "I'm, I'm sorry. This, us, shouldn't have happened. I know you'll find someone better. I just-I think we should end things."

In the corner of his eye, Serim can see a tear drop. He can feel Allen caving in on himself, trembling, as he doesn’t even try to stop the tears. He really is the worst. 

"You'll find someone better," he repeats like a mantra, because really, anyone is better than him. He wants to say 'you'll find someone who isn't a liar,' but that comes with more questions than answers, so he bites his tongue. He's not a masochist, and with Allen's tears he doesn't think he'll appreciate it. 

Then, in a flurry of movements, Allen is hugging him. Gripping him so hard as he shakes and cries, hiding his face in the crook of Serim's neck. Like old times, Serim holds him, comforting him as the boy he loves is falling apart at the seams. He thinks of nothing and everything as his eyes start to water, and a self deprecating smile appears on his face. 

He doesn't cry though. Not because he doesn't want to, but because he already cried the nights prior. The pressure on his chest is still pulled taut, and now he can feel his sweater dampening. It's really no fun anymore. When did he ever think playing with hearts was entertaining?

After catching his ragged breath, Allen looks absolutely vulnerable as he stares into Serim's hidden eyes. Tear tracks and red-rimmed eyes decorating his face, Allen whimpers brokenly, "It's okay," with a strained smile.

At this, it's as if Serim was shot with a thousand arrows to the chest. Of course, even when Allen has the right to be upset or hate him, he manages to take the blame for himself. It's incredibly stupid, because the world doesn't care about you, yet he acts as if he's untainted by the cruel world. 

"I knew it was coming," Allen mutters, taking a breath, "I just t-thought it was too good to be true. A fairy tale kind of story, like the ones you grow up reading. This guy that I think is cute and hot, wants to hang out with me, of all people, and then I come out of the closet and we start dating. And life is amazing, and then-" he's hiccupping, "then you started acting weird."

The guilt is eating him alive. His chest hurts so much, as if someone dropped coals on his worn-out heart. He can't say anything though, not when he'll spill everything and apologize at his feet and beg for forgiveness until his dying days. 

"I thought maybe it was a phase, since we were in love-or loved each other we would get over it. I thought, I thought that we perfect together, whatever that means." Allen lets out a broken laugh at his own statement, before admitting, "I guess that's not the case, is it?"

Serim wants to cry out that he does love him. That they are perfect for each other, as possible in a relationship. That it's not a phase, but instead just a mountain of deceit that's been compiling since he first saw him in his plaid flannel. Even now, there's wrappers of strawberry gum littered in the apartment. All he can do is console Allen, whispering a lullaby of _"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry,"_ but his words are futile. 

They stay wrapped up together for the night, both not making the first move of leaving. Allen wanting closure, and Serim too scared that anything else he does will make it worse. They both silently acknowledge that this is their last night together, and only when Allen drifts off into sleep, Serim leaves.

Right before entering the dreamscape, Allen, under his breath, drawls out the sweetest saccharine, _"I love you."_

As if this night never happened, and they're still madly in love with each other, whispering _'I love you'_ like it’s a well-kept secret. 

Involuntary, he kisses Allen's forehead like so many other times, and repeats the sentiment, and if Allen hears him, the only indication is small smile.

In the night, Serim will untangle himself out, cover Allen with the warmest blankets, and leave a note. Disappearing into the early morning, never looking back.

In the morning, Allen will wake up alone. Like a dream, Serim is gone in a blur, and he'll have to mend his broken heart, wondering what went wrong.

_Sorry for all the lies.  
\- Serim_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Sorry for the cliff hanger_  
>  -author limanade
> 
> In all seriousness I hope I haven't ruined you too much, and if I did then please let me know that would be great thanks. As always comments are VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!! You can literally write anything and I'll reply! Maybe something like, 'you broke my heart' or 'I wanna punch Serim' or 'this sucks stop writing :).' (jk don't write that pls)
> 
> Thank you again for readingggg <3 (new chap in a week)


	4. You're Fine, I'm Fine, and You Lie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this is it. Hope you enjoy :)  
> chap title from the song And July by Heize and Dean. The month July has no real significance to this story lol, it's just a great song and birthed the original story, so I had to add it.

_June_

Cherry blossoms are blooming on his graduation day. The blush petals swirl in the wind while he takes pictures with his family, gown and cap.

As expected, they're all dressed to the nines (he's wearing his only pair of dress shoes), and albeit awkward, the pictures turn out nice. It's not like his parents can exactly brag about how their son graduated from a music program, but he doesn't use their money so there's that. As strained and alone he's been since he left for university, his parents are somewhat supportive, in the least supportive way possible. It's a miracle that both his mother and father came, and the lectures are only half as much as Serim expected.

Despite the few and varied phone calls he has with his family, a small part of him is glad they came. When he's dropping them off at the hotel late at night and his mother whispers, "You did good," he knows they're glad too.

That night he doesn't dream of Allen. All the nights after however, the subject of his dreams are, without a doubt, the boy in question.  
The hot nights only get hotter with the blazing sun never letting up until it disappears behind the horizon. The weather app says there's multiple heat warnings.

The sight of blooming orchids makes him curse. Suddenly, all he can see are orchids in gardens and in delicate vases in stores, like it's haunting him. He only really feels the pain in his chest when he has no distractions. Other than that, it's a mute, numb strain.

Sometimes when he's dreaming, Allen will appear to him like how water droplets appear on lush leaves. It feels too real and too perfect, but Serim can't help himself immersing in it. If only his dreams were his reality. Unfortunately, this isn't the case, and every time he wakes up it's like clawing his way through molasses just to breath. To no one's surprise, reality catches up every time. 

-

Wonjin is sitting across from him, much like that day on April 13th. The only real difference is that they're at a coffee shop and he's single. They even get drinks, a strawberry drink and an iced coffee sitting on the hipster table. They talk about school and work and menial things, but Serim supposes one month is enough time to sulk, so now he has to check off his to-do list.

"I don't think I'm gonna be taking any more jobs." 

Serim just throws it out there. The atmosphere was comfortable, and luckily it stays that way. He's a fool for thinking Wonjin would hold it against him. He never did mention anything about his lie about the date.

Wonjin doesn't narrow his eyes or bash him or do anything Serim expected, but really he should've known. Instead, sipping on his coffee, he causally asks, "Any reason why?"

"Just busy." Serim says, as if Wonjin didn't graduate with him last month. They took pictures together, with the cherry blossoms on campus. Their shiny degrees are sitting pretty in a cabinet.

Wonjin chuckles, "I kinda already saw it coming. I think the last one took quite a toll on you. Allen was…interesting. Hanging out with anyone for a year, and even dating them will take a toll on anyone." 

He's had the emotional toll of a tsunami. "You could say that. It's not like we were actually dating, at least on my part. I hope his friends talk about me, though. They were nice guys. Sometimes I think that they'll hunt me down in the middle of the night as revenge for Allen." 

"Hmm, but fake dating leads to 'real' dating pretty often. It's not too hard when you're spending so much time together, and you're not that great of an actor, your eyes always tell the truth. You were pretty deep into him, and I don't blame you. Love is so fickle." Serim wants to protest, but Wonjin continues. 

Hand on his chin, he suggests the unthinkable. "I think you should go for it." 

"Go for what?" Serim questions, and then it hits him. He wishes he was braver, but life is hard and confusing and even thinking about a future with Allen makes his head spin. "I broke up with him."

It's the first time he's said it out loud, a low settling pain on his chest. Saying it makes it real. Wonjin doesn't say anything for a few seconds, mouth slightly open in surprise, and then smiles gently. "So that's how it turned out? I guess it makes sense why you were acting like you did. Even now, you mope around a bit more. Your songs are always depressing."

Serim doesn't answer, and Wonjin sighs. Carefully, he asks, "So, did you love him?" 

That's the million dollar question, isn't it? It's a given that Wonjin knows more than Serim is comfortable with, and now that he's quitting it's the perfect reason to ask. Wonjin is as cunning as ever, Serim wouldn’t expect anything less. After a couple of seconds, he bites his lip, and nods. His throat slightly closes up as he mutters, "Yeah, I did."

He wishes, wants the answer to be no, but Wonjin doesn’t deserve his lies. It's there again, that bittersweet taste spreading from his chest to his mouth. It’s nothing like the strawberry gum he can't seem to remember what it tastes like, he won't allow himself to buy it. Trying to keep a straight face, Wonjin can probably see him caving in, struggling to remain neutral. It's all a façade anyways, and as Wonjin says, his eyes give him away.

Wonjin smiles all-knowing again and says, "That sucks, but you didn't actually have to break with him. Sure it's general protocol, but no one would really know except me. And, I wouldn't throw you under the bus, you're the dust on the floor to the mafia. It's not worth all the work, but, I guess living a lie is hard, too."

Like clawing into a healing wound, Serim doesn't want to talk about his faults or the unfairness of the situation. He already knows he didn't have to break up with him, but it's better seeing Allen heartbroken than heartbroken and betrayed. He doesn't want to think about what could've been, no matter how impossible. It's just tempting him, alluring him into a fantasy.

"Yeah, it is, but it's better this way. Trust me. I'm okay." He's not sure if he's lying or not. "And I'll start listening to happier songs, alright?" 

Wonjin just smiles back genially, his eyes catch the sunlight. "If you say so, lover boy." 

-

Later that week, he gets a text from Jungmo while at the movie theatre. It's something along the lines of, 'I heard about the break up' but Serim doesn't bother to read all of it. Cutting out Allen means cutting out his friends too, no matter how much he actually enjoys their company. The less strings, the better. He just texts back a simple 'thanks' and promptly deletes the number. It's not like Allen had to even tell Jungmo, he left him broken hearted. 

As he sits back against the red leather seats, it's the first time he's watched a movie alone since meeting Allen. It's one of those Marvel superhero movies, but it's been out for a solid month that the room is sparse. With only one blue raspberry slushie and a medium popcorn, it's not bad watching a movie alone. It's just different. A little lonelier than he remembered last year, but change is inevitable.

When his parents call and ask about his weekend, he can't even remember what he did this week. 

-

_July_

It's stupidly poetic, but 'And July' by Heize and Dean are playing from the speakers. Those calendar stores are haunting him.

It's one of the rare instances where Serim finds himself in a mall, shopping for formal attire for interviews. By his side is Wonjin, who also seems to be lacking in that department. Surrounded by sleek clothes made by child-laborers, the job hunt starts here. 

His self-hatred seems to be chipping away, little by little. The less time he thinks about Allen, the less he hates himself. The guilt is also fading away because he's finally getting away him, from seeing his cute smile and thinking 'I'm ruining that'. It's almost like he can splice out that part of his life, like it's a separate entity that won't have any bearings on the present.

He's okay. Wonjin doesn't ever bring it up, and when he does Serim glares at him he might as well have lasers coming out of his eyes. He still might do a double-take every time he passes a MacDonald's, or sees a specific brand of gum, but it's okay. He's still living, but it truly is a small world. 

Before he can stop himself, Serim starts staring at a familiar stature at the other end of the store. The stranger's back is towards him as he sifts through punch-colored flannels and it feels like the room drops sixty degrees. Frozen, all he can do is grip harder onto the white button-down he was previously looking at. It's no stranger, and the maze of clothing looks a lot more hazardous.

Wonjin doesn't seem to notice his caution, whistling softly as he checks the price tag. Only once he puts the shirt back can he see the pure panic on Serim's face, "Um, you good?" 

He's drowning. All the sounds are distorted and faraway, it's just him floating, trying to find a way to breathe. The pressure on his chest is back after months. A hand on his shoulder snaps him out of it, and he nearly rips the button-down in his hands. 

"Serim, you okay?" Wonjin asks again, confused, and then he follows his line of sight. "Is that…?"

"We need to leave. Now." Serim manages to blurt out. The shirt forgotten, he grabs Wonjin's wrist and drags him out without turning too many heads. Shame coloring his face, all he can do is look at the shiny ground and try to remember to breathe. It's already been two months, he's not this much of a loser.

Unknown to the duo, the boy by the punch-colored flannels gets a glimpse. Shaking his head, he goes back to shopping.

-

It's late, but the summer heat only eases slightly as the open window does nothing to relieve Allen of his lack of sleep. 

The city lights are blinking blearily into the dark background as the boy rubs his eyes for the nigth time. It's a scenic view of 'downtown' Vancouver, but with it comes noisy neighbors and lucrative businesses that are just skimming legal. His window is half stripped of paint. His door creaks like a grandmothers back, and the walls are paper thin but it’s not a red light district. Special agents don’t just live here, Allen lives here. A newly graduated agent, who is miles away from home because he was lucky enough to be accepted into the FBI, and now a notable department. 

The poetic reason he chose to live in a dump like this was due to his motivation of helping others, and so he should experience what the citizens he's helping are living like, especially in the worst areas. His other reason was that the rent was cheap, and Jungmo is a decent roommate, even when he pulls him out of bed because he 'hasn't done anything today but sulk'. Yet he still buys Allen's favorite ice cream, so there's that.

Call him a mamas boy, but he guiltily regrets leaving home. Only at times like this, when the city never sleeps, and his neighbors are getting it on for the seventh time this night (not Jungmo). He can't blame them though, because his thoughts keep going back to him. First known as the hot cashier, and now something to shove under the rug. 

His old love life was wayward because he's only dated girls, but if he can arrest a mafia pinhead, then he should be unapologetically himself too. Allen laughs grimly at himself, 'look how that turned out' he thinks.

At first it was hard. The morning after the break up he didn't do anything, couldn't bring himself to move from the coach or eat. The next day, he managed to book off three days of work citing that he caught a nasty cold with his gritty, weak voice. Allen loved him, or rather still loves him. It's not like you can just decide to not love someone anymore, although he wishes it was that easy. How can you be okay when a part of your life you spent so much energy in, just vanishes into the dark?

It still hurts when he thinks about it, though. It's his Achilles. He did throw away the pink orchids though. They were already dying, it was only a matter of time.

It's not fair, but what Allen doesn't understand is why Serim was distant. He can't chalk up a single instance when the dynamics changed, when they stopped being absolutely in love. Sure, Allen could credit it to the honey moon phase ending, but it's not like he has a lot of experience. Just that sometime during April, and maybe even before that, Serim was different. It sounds stupid now, but Allen really thought this was it. This was the love of his life, that they would spend their lives growing old and growing orchids. It's terribly naive of him. Not everything is a Shakespeare play.

Even now, he doesn't know what Serim lied about. 'Sorry for all the lies'? He can't even begin to understand when the lies started.

What's weirder is the text he received a month ago. From an unknown number, all it said was 'If you want, you should talk to Serim'. It's not Serim's number (he remembered it by heart, the traitor) but the sad truth is that he does want to talk to him. He wants closure when he was too weak to ask for it. It's like a cruel sign from above, or a prank text on a drunken night.

Work has been the biggest distraction, and Allen's grateful for it. If he spends a few more extra hours on a case, his superiors only praise him for it. He used to have bouts of insomnia on particularly hard nights, though it's gotten better as the days pass by. Jungmo is letting up on him, less nagging and more hopeful. He hasn't mentioned Serim for two weeks.

Tonight, he doesn't seem to be as lucky. It's okay though, because he doesn't cry himself to sleep at night anymore. His heart doesn't feel like it's gonna burst when he sees a sleek leather jacket or that particular strawberry gum. No longer is it hard to eat just an apple or get out of bed on the weekends. Like buds awakening from their slumber, Allen is blooming ever so slightly in the burning sunlight. 

The humid breeze is making Allen sticky to the touch, and as the go-go girls are making their rounds, he drifts off. Below his shoddy apartment, a bang sounds, and the scatter of people whispers across the now silent street. 

Allen has always been a light sleeper. Work never seems to end.

-

_August_

Of course, it all comes full circle. 

It's another night shift at the gas station, like most days for Serim since his manager isn’t the most empathetic. He's currently ringing up a customer, bored out of his mind, but that's better than thinking of the past. Scanning Two bottles of Coca-Cola, and in a monotone voice, the cashier says. "That'll be $4.25." 

As Serim shifts his focus, he sees the glint of a gun in the customers hands. It's been awhile since there's been an incident like this, in fact around a year ago of a similar situation, and the boy quietly speed dials 911 like muscle memory, and then warns, "Sir, I need you put down-"

"P-PUT YOUR HANDS UP! OPEN THE CASH REGISTER AND GIVE ME ALL THE MONEY!" The customer holds up a small piston and a flimsy bag, and Serim sighs. Why do thief's always buy two bottles of Coca-Cola? Why not one? Or a different drink? It's just another petty robber with no skills or class. The scene feels a bit too familiar for Serim's liking.

Like last August, the cashier was going to knock the gun out of the customers hand and trap him, and he does exactly that. No one beats him to it, and in a matter of seconds he has the robber's wrist in a tight grip and knocks him out with an elbow to the head. It's just them in the store, the silence returning as the guy lays unconscious on the dirty tiled floor.

There's no boy in a plaid flannel who comes to his aid, not that he needed it. He can feel the strawberry gum innocently sitting on the shelf, mocking him in the open. The moon shines beautifully as the police leave, the havoc leaving with them. Another night at the gas station, Serim thinks to himself, and lets sleep overcome him before he can think too deep about it.

_Ding dong!_

Barely stirring, Serim slowly wakes up, already used to the feeling of lack of sleep, and acting as if he wasn't napping on the job. Looking up, he freezes. 'Run away! Run away! Run away!' is on a rampant in his head, adrenaline pumping as his chest squeezes in and out. Like the planets are aligned perfectly just to make this moment come true, for just a couple seconds. 

It's terribly ironic, but there Allen stands by the clear double door. A shy, small smile graces his face, and Serim wants to cry.

The fluorescent lights are still just as glaring on Allen's soft features, but all Serim can do is stare in disbelief. Frozen like all those months ago, he vaguely notices that Allen is wearing a plaid shirt over a hoodie. It swallows him up, and soon his chest is stirring uncomfortably. It's like there's tiny fire's dancing in his ribcage. 

Allen starts walking towards the aisles in a leisure pace as if it were a sunny afternoon, birds chirping and everything. Seemingly not bothered, he takes his sweet time looking at the packages and food labels. When the boy disappears in the back row by the drinks, Serim can finally breathe, letting out a sigh and taking a deep breath. Like a diver swimming up for air, Serim emerges from the surface exhausted. His hands have started shaking and his breathing is quick and shallow. 

The pressure on his chest is as strong as it was in May. Above all, his face burns from shame. The past was never supposed to catch up. 

A jug of chocolate milk, a box of cereal, five frozen pizzas (there was a sale), and two packs of strawberry gum are what Allen has in his shopping basket. It's all that stands between them, sitting innocently on the countertop. What did his past life do to deserve this?

The boy is so close that if Serim were to hold his hand up, he could cradle his tear-stained face. If he leaned forward, he could kiss him like not so long ago. He's sure his facial expression is one of pure longing. He doesn't even try to hide it. He wouldn't be able to, either way. 

"Can I pay for this?" Allen asks slowly, and he's smiling nervously, his eyes look so bright and full, but guarded. His hands are hidden in the pocket of his hoodie. 

"Uh-yes! I mean-yeah. Yeah, you can pay for it," Serim mumbles the last part, heat creeping onto the tips of his ears. One by one he scans each item. He wants to run away in the barcode maze of black and white lines. Time seems to stretch on and on with the inconstant beeping being the only sound in the gas station. Packing the groceries now feels like his every wrong movement could set off a nuclear bomb.

"How would you like to pay today?" Strains Serim.

Allen already has his card out, "Credit, please." Avoiding eye contact, Serim stares at everything besides Allen. The register lets out a satisfactory beep and the receipts printing out. His voice sounds like someone's holding a gun to his head. "Would you like the receipt in the bag?"

"Sure," Allen says, nodding. Serim does exactly that, but Allen doesn't take the filled plastic bag. It just sits there as the younger boy takes no initiative to leave. He's still standing in front of him, and Serim has no idea what game he's trying to play at. He wants to dig a hole and crawl into it. 

After a couple of seconds, Allen clears his throat and looks sheepish. Serim only knows this because he can only hold out for so long, finally locking eyes. Cautiously, Allen starts explaining, "I know we broke up," his voice cracks, "but a month ago I got a weird text from an unknown number."

'Wonjin!', Serim accuses in his head. The traitor must've done it sometime in June. These are the results, or rather the consequences, when he doesn't lie. Serim so far isn't liking how it's turning out.

"It said something about how I should talk to you. It even said your name, which I thought was crazy, but I didn’t respond until July. The stranger told me that I deserved the 'truth'. Now that I'm thinking about it though, it could've been you that texted me, or a drunken text, but I have a feeling it isn't."

"It wasn't me," Serim croaks out. Now he's the nervous one. He's the one getting played, unaware of which tiles will set off boobytraps. 

Allen smiles back in response, "I know, and the thing is, I never understood why you wrote, 'Sorry for the lies'. I can't think of a single instance when you lied, really lied, or how bad it must be for you to apologize like that. The only reasonable conclusion I came up with was the 'I love you's' must've been fake."

Allen has a brave face on, and it would be so easy to say 'yes, you’re right, I never loved you', and end the conversation, but this all started because Serim decided to stop lying. No one deserves his twisted words because he's a coward, least of all Allen. 

A beat passes before Serim admits, "The 'I love you's' were true."

Waiting for Allen's reaction, his face remains neutral, maybe deflating a little. Guarded yet still curious, he keeps interrogating Serim, "So what is the whole truth?"

That's the question everyone wants to know, isn't it? The job's over, and he has nothing to lose except his dignity, but that's nothing new. It's almost like nothing matters because it can't get worse than this. Besides, didn't Wonjin say to go for it? He might as well finish what he unknowingly started, he basically got Wonjin's approval.

Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Serim begins, "Sometimes, I used to kinda do, um, side jobs. For my friend, Wonjin." 

Allen waits attentively as Serim tries to string together the right words. "Wonjin works for, well, he works for the uh, mafia," he mutters the last word, but he can see the gears in Allen's head turning. 

"Wonjin works for the mafia, the same mafia that were caught for the MacDonald's Monopoly scheme." Finishes Allen, a look of awe and disgust. Narrowing his eyes, he accuses, "That means you worked for the mafia. That means you were complacent in the act of fraud, actually you actively helped them. You did side jobs for the mafia via Wonjin."

"Um, technically yes, but I don't work for them anymore! I was a throwaway tool, a-a dirt rag for them because I, I was low in cash, and the opportunity was right there. I just-" Serim trails off, biting his tongue when he can't think of what to say to console Allen. There's no fast lane to right your wrongs, is there?

Then, in a weak voice, Allen keeps prodding. "So that means your job was…to date me?"

Guilty as charged. Serim's silence is enough of an answer. He doesn't dare look Allen in the eyes, the shame won't allow him. What a terrible thing to do, playing with innocent hearts only to crush them on schedule. His ears are burning, his chest aching.

"You dated me to get information on the FBI. On the investigation. All those times I talked about the case, did you relay them to the mafia? You probably wired my phone." Allen guesses, but his hands are trembling. No one said the truth was pretty. "The first time we meet, at this gas station, was that staged?" 

Serim scoffs lamely, then answers, "No, it wasn't. That was actually before I got the, um, the job. The first time was pure chance." 

Allen doesn't respond, so now they're thickly saturated in an overwhelming quietness. With only the rumbling AC and the occasional cars driving by, one would assume there's nothing but lonely ghosts in here. Once Allen's caught up with his racing thoughts, he breaks the silence.

"If all of this is true, why did we end up catching the mafia?" 

Never one to miss out on a single detail, Allen is indeed an exceptional agent. Serim grins masochistically, "Short answer, the mafia are stupid. Long answer, I actually lied to Wonjin about when the takedown was supposed to happen."

Allen's eyes widen, but Serim just keeps going. 

"It turns out though, it didn't even matter. Wonjin is the only one who knows I lied, so I don't have to fear for my life. The thing is though, that even if I told him the correct date, you would've still caught them." That's the sad truth, that even when Serim thought he had a chance to rebel, it didn't matter in the end. The results would be the same regardless if he lied or not. The only substantial difference is that he was willing to lie to the Mafia for Allen's happiness. Not like it matters anymore. 

"Wonjin, and therefore the mafia, didn't actually need the date of the takedown, despite him telling me to find out, so really, the mafia are quite stupid. They didn't need me to really do anything because they weren't even prepared with a warning from me, so it wouldn't have made a difference regardless of what I did." 

Finally, the pressure leaves his chest. He's so light he could fly past the serene clouds. Allen will leave him this time, rightly so, but it's okay, he's a free man, for now. He'll be let down slowly.

Serim can't help it when the corners of his mouth turn upward, he did the unthinkable. Now Allen holds all the power in his gentle hands. "That's the whole truth. I know it sounds ridiculous, like a badly written romance novel, but it's true. You can chose to believe me or not, I don't blame you."

Allen stares back but doesn't answer him. "You said the 'I love you's' were true. You fell in love with me while on the job, didn't you?" 

Smiling crestfallen, Serim nods haphazardly. Allen seems to be just as amused as he laughs at the situation. Soon child-like laughter fills the gas station, like they just heard a bad joke. A tear slips past the corner of Allen's eye and without thinking, Serim's hand is already there, wiping his cheek dry. 

Allen doesn't flinch or move away, but when the realization hits, Serim pulls his hand back so fast as if lighting striked. Leaning forward, Allen almost looks like he wants to whine at the action.

Studying each other, Allen seems to come to his own realization as his eyes twinkle in the dim lighting. Quietly, he admits in a shaky voice, "I haven't forgiven you, and I think I'll need a month to digest whatever you just said, but…" 

Allen grins faintly. Never one to disappoint, he asks before he can regret it, "…Can I see you again?"

It's silent for a beat, the words ringing in Serim's head. Allen Ma, the person he lied to countless times, wants to see him again? In disbelief, he begs out, "Why?"

"I wired your phone. I went on a date with you because I was getting paid. I became your boyfriend because I was getting paid! I-I even took your virginity! I lied about everything!" Roars Serim, because how could someone as good as Allen even want to be associated him? He won't allow himself to grasp onto the idea of false hope, that this could be something like before. Allen doesn't deserve it.

Blinking twice at his own rage, he whispers brokenly, "Why-why are you still _here_? Get out. I'm…the worst." 

Mouth in a tight line, Allen suddenly seems much wiser than the innocent boy he first met back in August. His undereye bags are now a bit darker, and the lines on his face are more defined, as if hasn't been eating. Still, he radiates the nostalgia that there is good in the world. It makes Serim want to donate to charity. 

Sighing, Allen says, "I don't know how to explain it, but I know for a fact that there are worse people than you, like the pedophiles that work for Nickelodeon, or a certain president. But Serim, the bad things you’ve done don't have to define you, really."

Serim has a hard time believing that, but Allen continues with a note of fondness, fidgeting with his hands. "I know what you're like, how you link our hands together to comfort me, or how you always put the shopping cart back to the right spot even though you don't have to. I know how much you like PDA, especially hidden kisses, and that you think 'The Shining' is the best horror movie. I know that you would sing 'Hamilton' with me word for word, that you're favorite drink is iced coffee and you hate sweet drinks but your favorite dessert is strawberry shortcake, and that my friends miss you, though they won't admit it."

"I know how you hold my face like it's glass when we're kissing, and now I know that the 'I love you's' were true. It's you, Serim. Those weren't lies, were they?" Allen whispers, and they both know it's a rhetorical question.

As if poverty doesn't exist anymore and the kids in Africa are no longer starving, Allen gives him the kindest smile. "Sure, you're not a saint by any means, but you don't actually hate the world…and the world doesn't hate you."

Hanging his head, Serim can’t bring himself to believe that. How can the world not hate him? It's as if everything that could go wrong has, but even he has to admit he could be dead right now. Is it worse now that he has to face his consequences? The one standing right in front of him? Pinned down as if he's a bug encased in glass, Allen's voice the reason. It's dizzyingly worrisome how much Serim's chest doesn't feel like it'll burst, but instead cave into itself. It's too much all at once, all the emotions piling up.

"I mean, I don't hate you, and I know there's lots of reasons I should, as you gladly outlined, but I don't. I really don't. I'm not saying that we'll ever be like we were-like what we used to be, but, before I regret this," his voice hitches, "I really just want another chance."

From the long nights to his patched up heart, it's pretty obvious that Serim wants one too.

"Yeah, I-uh, I would really like that." Serim whispers, tears gently falling down his face. The world is truly being too kind to him. 

It's foreign and feels undeserving, but when he sees Allen's smiling ear to ear, he can't help but relish in it. Tears of joy, they say, but he would call them tears of gratefulness instead. He'll beg on his knees for forgiveness until death if this is what he gets to experience. 

That night, the moon casts beams of white light as Allen leaves, his heart leaving with him. 

Another night at the gas station, Serim thinks to himself, but he doesn't fall asleep the rest of his shift. He's buzzingly numb in the best way, as if he doesn't exist in this dimension. Chewing on some of the nostalgic strawberry gum, even the saccharine scent enveloping him can't bring him to sleep. If this is a dream, he wants it to last forever. He's inevitably punch-drunk in love.

Only when he's back at his dorm and receives a new message from a familiar number, does he go to sleep. In his tiny cote, between the low-thread count sheets and dirty clothes, he dreams of a world that doesn't hate him. 

When he wakes up, the familiar number is still there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's doneeee!!! I hope you enjoyed it! 
> 
> This was probably one of the hardest things I've had to write (like the break up scene and the last scene) but I'm super happy with it. Sure i see some problems with it now but I'm done with this story lol. I originally started with 10k and then it spiraled into this mess because i needed to add scenes of them actually kinda in love and stuff and yeah it just got longer and longer. 
> 
> I hope the plot actually made sense and that the pacing was okay, I have no idea if it was okay so plz let me know!! I can take criticism online, but not in person lol. I hope you guys noticed the months and how everything happened in a year (august to august). Sometimes when I read fanfics I don't even notice, so that's a cool tidbit if I wasn't too obvious about it lol.
> 
> Comments are VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!! If you made it this far....THANK YOUUU!!! You just read something I created from my head, which is crazy if u think about it. Anyways thanks for coming along this ride, I hope you have a great day and are content :)


End file.
